


Lessons in Dancing and Other Nice Things

by Lovethistoomuch



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-07-12 07:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovethistoomuch/pseuds/Lovethistoomuch
Summary: “Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful?”, Aziraphale asks with a dreamy expression: “I haven't danced in literal centuries!”When Aziraphale sees a sign for classical dancing lessons, he wants to try it out. Of course he needs a partner and of course that partner is Crowley.





	1. Chapter 1

"You cannot keep calling rock music 'modern poetry'”, Crowley whines in an annoyed tone: “You simply cannot! It is impossible! Nobody, not a single person would say that!”

Aziraphale looks a bit put out. “But you cannot deny the fact”, he says in a precise voice: “That the lyrics are very poetic in many cases and they _do_ rhyme more often than not!” Crowley groans. “Just because it is a different format, does not make it less poetic”, Aziraphale adds.

“Well, I'd like to see you at a rock concert, meeting the band and congratulating them on their _poetry_! Let's see how that goes, Angel.” Crowley's voice has achieved a new hight of sarcasm that he is particularly proud of when suddenly he realises that Aziraphale is no longer walking beside him.

With an elegant spin, he turns around to find that the angel in question has stopped in front of what appears to be a shop window. With a few sauntering steps he is right beside him. “What is it?”, he asks, looking over Aziraphale's shoulder and nearly touching it with his chin.

The angel doesn't startle, he simply shoots him a quick glance before returning his attention to the window. “See that?”, he asks and points at a note that is stuck to the glass from the inside. It reads as follows:

Classical Dancing Lessons for Beginners!

Come and Discover Your Love for Dancing! Every Tuesday at 6 PM.

All Ages Welcome!

On the note there are some drawings of people dancing who are apparently discovering their love for it. “Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful?”, Aziraphale asks with a dreamy expression: “I haven't danced in literal centuries!”

Crowley stares at the dancing figures who are all smiling, holding hands as well as each other. Suddenly, he feels a tingle in his spine. “I don't know...”, he says, but it seems that Aziraphale has already made up his mind.

“Come on, my dear, let's try it. I'm sure it will be great fun!” His eyes are sparkling and the smile on his face is so bright. How can Crowley say no?

They walk into the sunlit building. Right opposite the entrance there is a great dancing hall with one wall consisting only of mirrors and another of windows, which makes Crowley adjust his sunglasses a bit on his nose. Around the corner on the right there is a little reception desk behind which a woman sits. She smiles warmly as they approach her.

“Hello and good afternoon!”, she exclaims once they have reached her: “What can I do for you?” She is in her mid thirties with long, dark hair that she has tied together in the back.

“Good afternoon!”, Aziraphale answers politely: “We are here to inquire about the dancing lessons that are advertised in the window. The two of us”, he gestures between them: “Would like to try them out.” Crowley doesn't go for a fake smile, he just stares at her through his glasses.

The woman furrows her brows. “I am afraid we are all booked out”, she says: “Lots of spring weddings and people deciding to learn how to dance in advance. I'm very sorry but I think you have to find a different studio or come back later.”

Aziraphale doesn't seem discouraged. His smile remains in tact as he says: “Maybe you could just have a look again? In case something became available?”

The woman raises her brows but does as she is asked. After a quick look at her computer, a surprised expression appears on her face. “There seem to be two places in a dancing class tomorrow”, she says as if she could not believe it herself.

“Oh, how fortunate”, Aziraphale says innocently, that bastard. He shoots Crowley a quick glance who can't help but smile a bit.

“It is a couple's dance class”, the woman continues looking at them both questioningly: “If that is alright?”

“Perfectly alright!”, Aziraphale answers and Crowley can't help but wonder if the angel knows that in this context 'couple' means something different than just 'two people'. Crowley of course doesn't object.

They pay the fee and get a membership card in which the woman writes all the dates for the upcoming lessons. “I'm Marida by the way, I'm going to be your teacher tomorrow”, she says, extending her hand.

“Nice to meet you, I'm Aziraphale”, the angel answers politely. “And this is Crowley”, he adds as the demon makes no move to introduce himself. They all shake hands.

“Nice to meet you both”, she says with a smile: “And I'm looking forward to teaching you tomorrow! Please bring comfortable clothes. I know it doesn't seem like it, but dancing can get quite demanding.” Aziraphale promises they will and they both leave the studio.

“You didn't say a word in there”, Aziraphale observes after a moment: “Are you sure you want to try this?”

“Hmm...? Oh, yeah”, Crowley responds: “No, I do, 's gonna be fun.” Aziraphale looks a bit doubtful. “Last time I danced was in the 1970's. Can't have changed much”, Crowley adds.

***

When he is picked up the next day, Aziraphale is wearing exactly what he had been wearing the day before, just his usual trousers, shirt, waistcoat and jacket. Crowley on the other hand... “Oh...”, Aziraphale fortunately says very quietly so that he hopes the demon hasn't heard. But his open mouth, he had to notice.

“She said comfortable”, Crowley remarks nonchalant, striding into the bookshop with his usual swagger. He is wearing a thin, black long-sleeve with a v-neck that shows off his lanky and angular body pretty well, as well as his usual tight pants. His shoes have a bit of a heel.

Aziraphale isn't sure when he has last seen Crowley with only one layer of clothing on or if he ever has seen him like this. Suddenly, he feels inappropriate. “Maybe I should loose the coat...”, he mumbles but Crowley waves the remark away with a lazy gesture.

“Just come as you are, Angel. It doesn't matter really. Can we go now?”

Of course Crowley is right. It doesn't matter because neither of them sweat but Aziraphale decides to remove the coat anyway. Placing it on a hanger, he feels lighter somehow. “Let's go”, he says with a smile.

As they enter the dancing studio there is nobody at the reception but a sign points them directly to one of the halls. The moment they walk in (thanks to Crowley they are fashionably late but thanks to Aziraphale they have not missed any actual lesson time) all the other participants of the class, who have arrived before them, turn their heads and look at the newcomers. Some of them have expecting expressions, so in an instinctive move, Crowley takes Aziraphale's hand to signal to everyone that this dancing partner is definitely taken. The moment he realises this, Aziraphale's fingers are already squeezing back so there is really no use in withdrawing.

“Good to see you two!”, Marida says with a smile and a quick glance at the clock on one of the walls: “And almost on time.” Her smile has a wicked edge that removes the urge to apologise, at least in Crowley.

“We are very sorry”, Aziraphale responds but he uses that polite tone that he sometimes has when speaking to customers who have the audacity to try and buy a book.

Marida turns to look at everyone. “Now that we are all here, why don't we do a quick introduction?”, she proposes and there is a bit of a shuffle in the room as some people seem excited and more of them nervous. All in all there are eight couples. Three of them are not getting married. Going by what they are saying about themselves, they all seem normal and boring enough,. Then it is Crowley's and Aziraphale's turn. “Well, we are... It all began a long time ago...”, Aziraphale starts but is immediately cut off by Crowley.

“I'm Crowley, this is Aziraphale. He made me sign up”, he says with a quick gesture at the angel beside him: “So I hope this is worth it.”

There is a bit of chuckling and Marida smiles as well. “I certainly hope so too”, she adds. “So, now that we all know each other, why don't we start with the first dance and the basic steps? First, we will be learning the waltz, so get together with your partner and find a place in the room.”

They do as they are told, Crowley dragging Aziraphale to a spot as far away from the mirrors as possible. With the quick press of a button on a remote control, Marida switches on some music before she starts her instructions. “Now, the waltz has three basic steps, which I want you to practice on your own first. They are done in a one, two, three rhythm. You start by going forward with the left foot, then sideways with the right and then drag the left foot to the right one like this to close”, Marida shows the steps. “Forward, right, close. Then you do the same in the opposite direction. You go back with your right foot like this: Back, left, close. Forward, right close, back left close. This is the basic step. Everybody try it.”

Crowley stares. Aziraphale starts to move and slowly, Crowley does as well. After a moment, he seems to get the hang of it. “Alright”, Marida says, repeating the instructions: “Forward, right, close. Back, left, close... very good! You are doing good on your own! Now let's try dancing together! Stand in front of each other and the person who leads raises their left arm. Stretch your hand out flat like this and the person who follows puts their right hand on top like this.”

Aziraphale and Crowley face each other. Crowley hesitates. “Who is going to lead and who follows?”, he asks.

“I don't mind following”, Aziraphale replies happily, raising his right hand. Crowley presents his left arm and hand like it was shown and in the next moment, Aziraphale's palm is against his. He tries not to focus on the fact how warm Aziraphale's skin is and how comforting the touch.

“Now, whoever is leading, put your right hand on your partner's waist and whoever is following, put your hand on your partner's shoulder." They both do as they're told and suddenly Aziraphale wonders if he should have taken the vest off as well? The room feels slightly hot. They have never been this close, at least not in such a relaxed setting. Never in 6.000 years.

“Perfect!”, Marida continues: “So, now the person who is leading starts with a step forward, while the person who is following starts with a step back. Then you repeat what we have just practised. Try to keep in rhythm.”

“Alright”, Crowley mutters and takes a step that immediately results in him crashing against Aziraphale and stepping on his foot. Aziraphale huffs a bit and Crowley winces.

“The person who is leading”, Marida says with a smile in her voice: “Should give a sign when to start as to avoid collision.” Crowley's head snaps around to give her an angry stare, which is of course obstructed by the sunglasses. Nevertheless, his eyebrows disappearing behind them completely is a sign in and of itself.

“Alright then”, he tries again: “One, two three.” And they start, sort of. Crowley steps but he doesn't move his upper body, as if it were truly disconnected from his legs.

“Try turning a bit”, Marida says, clearly to the other, more talented students: “If you are comfortable with the steps, you can try using the space around you more.”

Crowley stumbles and steps on Aziraphale's foot again. He grits his teeth. “Crowley, dear, you have to lead me”, Aziraphale says quietly: “You have to indicate what I should do by moving and applying pressure to your hand. Just move me about.”

“Move then!”, Crowley hisses. He shoves against Aziraphale and nearly gets them both off balance.

Aziraphale falters and has to tighten his grip quite a bit in order not to fall. “This doesn't work”, he concludes, not frustrated but simply stating a fact: “Here, let me lead.”

Crowley sighs but he can't help but feel a bit relieved. They switch hands, Crowley now feeling the warmth of the angel's hand go from his shoulder to his ribcage, his own left palm brushing against the soft fabric of the beige vest. “Remember to begin with a step back”, Aziraphale reminds him, then he starts rocking his left hand up and down just a tad to indicate the rhythm of the music. “One, two, three”, he says and makes the first step, hands pushing just a bit, indicating the direction of the movement. Crowley moves. He follows the pressure, makes a step back then sideways, brings his foot in, moves forward. There is a slight pull on Aziraphale's part that shows him exactly where to go, how to follow. Crowley relaxes.

They move around like this for a while. Aziraphale eventually starts taking Marida's advice and they enter a circular motion. All this he does with just a bit of pressure here, a slight pull there. Crowley's body follows as if he had never done anything else. It just feels right, harmonious. His mind trails off, isn't focused on the steps any more but just on this feeling of moving with the music and with each other. The space between then seems to shrink automatically or did Aziraphale just pull him in a bit more?

“Very good!”, Marida says as she passes around the room and reaches them: “Seems like you are not such a lost cause after all! In fact you are doing very well.”

“Thank you!”, Aziraphale says with a beaming smile and immediately forgets to move but Crowley is so comfortable now that he just makes the step and pushes Aziraphale gently, to remind him to follow. “Oh”, the angel's smile widens as they proceed without incident. “Did you just lead me, Crowley?”, he asks delighted.

They continue, starting to dance circles around the room under Marida's instruction. In the end she shows them one more basic step to incorporate into the routine and encourages them to practice at home. As they leave, Aziraphale is not the only one smiling. “That was delightful!”, the angel says.

“Yeah...”, Crowley's voice is meant to be dismissive: “It was alright. Lunch?”

“Absolutely!”

When they separate later that day they make plans to meet tomorrow for practice.


	2. Chapter 2

As Crowley walks into the bookshop the next day, Aziraphale can't help but feel a little disappointed by the fact that he is wearing his normal shirt, waistcoat and jacket combination again, completed with that little thing that you could call a scarf if you are feeling very generous. Of course this is unfair as he himself is wearing the same outfit he has been for decades but he always likes seeing Crowley dress up in different styles. This surely must be the reason for his disappointment. What else could it be?

Crowley has a bottle of red wine in his right hand and a square paper bag in his left. “Hello, Angel”, he says with a smile, sauntering in and putting the wine bottle down on the table.

“Crowley”, Aziraphale says delighted: “What's this?” He motions towards the bag.

“Ah, just a piece of music. I wasn't sure if you had anything here to dance to.” He places the bag on the chair. “So, wine first, or dance first?”, he continues.

Aziraphale has a quick look at both items, the bottle and the bag. “I would say dance first”, he concludes, trying to reach for the bag but Crowley stops him.

“Ah, no, no, why don't we see what you got, before we open that?”, he says with a sly smile but his voice betrays him a little. For a moment he sounded a bit panicky.

“Alright then.” Aziraphale raises his eyebrows but he doesn't press the subject. Instead, he walks over to his gramophone. “How about Tchaikovsky?”, he asks: “Or maybe we should start with the music the lovely instructor gave us?” He produces a CD and with a snap of his fingers it transforms into vinyl: “That way we can hear the beat clearly.”

“'S all fine to me”, Crowley remarks.

While Aziraphale is putting on the music, he walks to the door to turn around the sign from “open” to “closed” only to find that it hasn't been turned to “open” in the first place. Well then... He takes off his glasses and throws them somewhere on a shelve. As he turns around, he is greeted by the most genuine smile on Aziraphale's face. Music is swelling as they meet in the middle of the room.

Aziraphale has taken off his coat but Crowley hasn't taken off his jacket. The angel raises his hand, which the demon takes and after a split second of consideration, Aziraphale slides his fingers under the black jacket and places them on the vest on Crowley's waist. There is a soft look in Crowley's eyes that has not been there before but he doesn't comment. Aziraphale counts them in “One, two, three.” And they start dancing.

It's lovely, just as before. The rhythm is easy to follow and Aziraphale leads with confidence. The fabric of Crowley's clothes is very soft and Aziraphale can feel it on his palm as well as the back of his hand. Soon he is beaming. It is so nice to see Crowley's face fully for a change. His golden eyes sparkling. There are some wrinkles around them, the kind of which only appear, when he is smiling like he is now, truly, genuinely happy. Aziraphale tries not to stare but it is really hard, when Crowley is so close and so relaxed. His hand slides on the fabric a bit, as it is so smooth and he involuntarily pulls Crowley towards himself.

They cannot look at each other now, it seems impossible. They just focus on breathing and making the steps and trying not to think to much. Crowley's hand moves, slides along Aziraphale's shoulder until his thumb slightly touches the angel's neck. Aziraphale freezes.

Caught by surprise at the sudden abrupt stop, Crowley stumbles against him. “Sorry”, he says very quietly and just as that his hand is gone from the angel's neck and from his shoulder altogether.

Aziraphale shoots him a quick look before letting go himself. “Oh, well”, he mumbles all to aware of the sudden cold feeling that the lack of Crowley's hand on his body produces. “Now that this works so well, maybe we should switch, with you leading for a change?”

Crowley nods but his face is tense again. Aziraphale wants to do something, say something but he doesn't know what. That is exactly what he wants to say: I don't know what to do, Crowley, I don't know what to say, this is all new to me!

But Crowley just puts his hand on the angel's waist, switches into the leading position. He is used to this after all. His soft smile hiding his hurt. “Alright, Angel”, he says: “I'll be leading you for a while.”

It's not as smooth as before but not as catastrophic as it had been during their first practice. Crowley surely knows what to do now and how to move but from time to time Aziraphale gets the feeling that he has to take over a bit. “Ssstop interfering”, Crowley finally hisses when he feels Aziraphale pushing against his arm again, trying to get them to go in another direction. Crowley increases his pressure and swirls them around quite competently.

After that, Aziraphale tries to relax, let Crowley take the lead and stop worrying that he is going to loose the beat or step on his feet or both. And from that moment on, it works better. First, Aziraphale has to physically restrain himself from resisting Crowley's pull but after a while it becomes easier to let go, to be led. “There”, Crowley finally says: “That's better, isn't it? Just stop being that stubborn.”

“I'm not stubborn”, Aziraphale counters but his tone makes Crowley smile.

“Oh, of course not!”, he says.

They dance three more rounds around the room before the music finally fades and Crowley let's go of the angel who tries not to think about how quickly Crowley removes his hands. “Sooo, wine?”, Crowley asks and walks over to the chair. Aziraphale gets two glasses and they soon get into their familiar routine. They drink and talk and drink some more. Crowley tries to make bets on who of the people in the dancing class will get divorced first but Aziraphale wants to hear none of it. At least that is what he says.

“Didn't you do this before?”, Crowley asks finally. There is a bit of a slur to his voice: “This whole dancing thing. In a club? What was it called?”

“The Gavotte”, Aziraphale answers and his face grows a little pink. “Yes, that was rather lovely”, he adds in an attempt that this word will send Crowley off on a tangent and make him forget about the subject.

There indeed is a bit of displeasure in Crowley's face but then he just shrugs it of. “Yeah, that! Can you teach me that?”, he asks.

Aziraphale is not sure why he is blushing so much. After all, it was just a dance. “I suppose I could”, he says: “But I'm pretty sure you wouldn't like it...”

“As long as it's not accompanied by bebob”, Crowley says with a mischievous smile.

“Oh”, Aziraphale huffs: “No, it's rather not. But I'm not sure if I could do it now. It's been a long time.” The angel's gaze wanders off a bit, before it comes to a halt, suddenly remembering something. “You brought music!”, he says with a flash as if a light had been switched on in his head: “And we haven't listened to it so far.”

Crowley drains his glass in one swig. “Yeah, right! Now 's the best time to get this party started”, his voice sounds excited in a way that makes the angel suspect some demonic shenanigans. He walks over to the chair on which the paper bag is still resting and reaches his hand into it. Out he pulls...

Aziraphale can't help but giggle. “Really?”, he asks with a bright smile.

Crowley raises his eyebrows. “I will not hear a word of criticism! Not a word, you hear me?”, he says over-dramatically pointing his finger before he gets up to take the 'Best of the 70's Disco Music” record out of the angel's hands to put it on the gramophone. Aziraphale shakes his head fondly. There is a certain sparkle in his eyes as he watches Crowley step back from the Gramophone, already moving slightly to the beat. “Come on, Angel”, he shouts, his head raised, his face twisting into a bit of a mischievous grin: “Show me your dance-floor moves!” And then the demon starts moving his body in the most insane way possible. He is indeed dancing as if nobody is watching and Aziraphale can't help but laugh. It is a happy laugh that is infectious and makes Crowley grin very genuinely.

“Good Lord!”, Aziraphale exclaims, putting a hand before his mouth that cannot contain his grin because it is so wide.

“Come on!” Crowley extends his hand and Aziraphale takes it, takes both of the demon's hands as he is trying to move him to the beat, make his shoulders shake from left to right. “You gotta move your hips more!”, Crowley is saying over the music: “Like this.” And he let's go of one of Aziraphale's hands and starts moving his body as if his hips are one line and his shoulders another and both of these lines are trying to circle each other. It looks good, in a way, from a certain angle, or maybe just from a very specific viewpoint, a very, very specific viewpoint that Aziraphale seems to occupy perfectly.

He tries, let's himself be pushed and shoved a little. It is actually fun, moving this carefree. As the song 'I will survive' comes on, Crowley suddenly pulls him into a waltz and somehow it works. They swirl around the room very fast and Aziraphale holds onto Crowley tightly to keep up with him until it doesn't work any more, until the angel is laughing too much for it to work any more. But Crowley is chuckling too. They don't stop, just slow down. Aziraphale lets his forehead fall on Crowley's shoulder, slowly swaying from left to right. Then he catches himself and raises his head again, looks into those bright, golden eyes. “I love dancing!”, he says.

Crowley's smile fades a bit, just like a golden sunset fades slowly into the blue ocean. “I know”, he says, eyes trailing off into the distance but he doesn't let go. Aziraphale watches him, studies his face. Wonders, not for the first time, what the demon is thinking. As the new song starts, they separate.

***

“Welcome to your second lesson!”, Marida says, right at the moment in which Crowley and Aziraphale enter the room. She shoots them a look but doesn't comment. “Today we are learning a few more steps for the waltz, but first, let's see if you remember the basics from last lesson.”

They pair up again and Aziraphale quite naturally assumes the leading position. As they dance around the room and Marida walks from pair to pair, she eyes them with unconcealed satisfaction. “I see you both have been practising, very good!”, she remarks and Aziraphale can't help but swell with pride which gets him a bit of an eyebrow raise from Crowley.

“Don't forget”, the demon whispers very quietly: ”Pride is a deadly sin.”

Aziraphale stops in his tracks. He looks genuinely put off. “Why would you say such a ghastly thing?”, he demands, eyes big and full of hurt.

“Ah, m, eh”, Crowley makes a range of helpless sounds. He notices that the other people are staring at him. “Just crossed my mind, cause I'm”

“A demon”, Aziraphale interrupts him.

“Yeah, that.” Crowley agrees but it sounds more like a snap. They continue dancing but is feels a bit off, not as close as before.

“Listen, there's nothing wrong with a bit of righteous self-regard”, Crowley finally proposes: “Especially when it's warranted. What's so bad about knowing your own worth and knowing that you're good at something if it's the truth?”

“I don't think that that's what's meant”, Aziraphale answers.

Crowley shakes his head a bit. “Alright, then I used it wrong”, he exclaims: “You are good at what you do and you enjoy it. Better?”

The angel thinks for a second then he says with determination: “Yes.”

They revise the special step they did at the end of the last lesson and after Marida is satisfied with what she sees she says: “Very good! Now that we got that down, we are moving on to do more complicated figures and since this is a couple's dancing class, prepare to get romantic!” She smiles as if this is a threat. Well, at least to two entities in the room it sounds like one...


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay”, Marida says: “First, we are going to start with a simple underarm turn. In my experience, everybody loves those. It is very fun to twirl your partner around or to be twirled around. Can one of the none leading partners come here and help me demonstrate?” Almost immediately, a woman with long, blonde curls raises her hand. “Thank you, Jen”. Marida stretches out her hand and the two of them get into the dancing position with Marida leading. “Now, we are going to dance half a box of basic waltz steps”, the teacher begins to explain: “So I'll be going forward and do three steps. And then, when I go back, I will drop my right arm and raise my left arm. While doing that, I'll open my hand, so my partner can turn. My partner should step towards me, then turn the right foot like this in a 90 degree angle then the left foot goes around to achieve the turn like this”, Marida shows the turn once. It doesn't look that difficult. “While my partner is turning, I continue with a normal box. Ready to try?”

Jen smiles “Yes.”

They start and do what Marida has said. Right in the middle of the turn, they freeze. “Alright”, Marida goes on: “Now the partner who has turned makes a step starting with the right foot like the basic one: Step, side, close, while I go forward, side, close.” They do it and it looks very easy. “Let's do it two more times”, Marida says. While they are doing the turn, she first explains the steps of the turning partner and then her own. “Now, if we have done all that, we end up in the normal dancing position and can continue with our waltz”, she finishes the demonstration: “Thank you, Jen.” There is mild applause from the room and one very enthusiastic applause from a certain angel.

“Alright”, Aziraphale says: “Shall we try it?” They get into the dancing position. “I hope it's no problem that you're taller than me”, Aziraphale remarks and Crowley raises his eyebrows. He is wearing his glasses again, which is a shame really, from the angel's perspective.

“Not that much taller”, the demon counters: “You'll just have to raise your arm a bit more.”

“Maybe, if you weren't wearing those shoes with the high heels...”, Aziraphale starts but he is interrupted by a sneer.

“Oh, shut up, I'm sure it's fine.”

Marida has reached them and they try the steps. All the while, Aziraphale is shooting her short looks as if he is fearing, or maybe hoping for some reprimanding words that support his theory about Crowley's shoes. Of course all she says is: “Now step forward, Crowley, very good and Aziraphale stay still, perfect! You are doing very well! If I hadn't seen your attempts in the last lesson, I would have sworn you have danced before.” She smiles and while Crowley still ponders if that was a compliment or not, Aziraphale happily returns the smile. They practice the turn a few times and then integrate it into the normal routine. I seems like Crowley's height is no problem at all.

“Very good”, Marida says after a while: “Now let's get to the more romantic part”. Everybody in the room stops but maybe for two partners the word 'freeze' is more appropriate. “Jen, would you help me demonstrate again?” Aziraphale shoots a look at Crowley but the demon just stares ahead.

“Alright, instead of going back to the normal dancing position, we are going to separate after the turn and stretch out our hands like this. So the right hand of the leading partner is holding the left hand of the partner who follows and the other arm is stretched out. For this part, I am going to demonstrate the steps of the partner who is following. Instead of going back to the normal box step, I am going to turn inwards, into the arm of my partner like this and then take the other hand.” She shows the turn and at the end of it, Jen's right arm is around Marida's waist, holding her left hand. Marida's arms are crossed in front of her body and her back is towards her partner. It looks very close like a close embrace. “Please try this first”, Marida says.

Crowley turns towards Aziraphale. His body suddenly feels very stiff. They don't talk as they get into position. Crowley turns, makes the sidestep and raises his other arm as the angel does the same. Then he turns inwards, wrapping his own left arm around himself, across his body and reaches for Aziraphale's right with his right hand. His arms are both crossed in front of him now, his back towards the angel. He can feel the angel's body heat. Aziraphale is not making an effort to keep some distance. In fact, he is holding him very close and very tight, in a way that makes Crowley wonder if they really have to continue dancing, if they cannot just stay like this for a while?

“Hold this position”, Marida says as if she has read the demon's mind. She looks around the room quickly to make sure everybody is now standing in the same form of embrace. “Good! Now the leading partner goes around, turning them both so that the following partner has to step backwards, sorry, Roger, may I borrow Jen for a quick demonstration? Thank you. The leading partner goes around like this.” She demonstrates, turning her bright smile towards Jen as they circle around each other. “To finish, we open the embrace in the same way that we got into it and the partner who is following turns in the opposite direction. Then we can get back to the normal step.” They demonstrate this a few times, before Marida releases Jen's hand. “Thank you. Now you can go back to your partner”, she says with a wink. “Please everyone try.”

Crowley looks at Aziraphale. The space between them is agonizingly small. Why does dancing have to be this close? Well, this was clearly the angel's fault for signing them up to a couple's dancing class...

They face each other as they turn, Aziraphale circling the demon and Crowley just relaxing, stepping backwards without hesitation because he knows that he will not trip, that he is safe in these hands that lead him gently and confidently. Aziraphale can't help but reduce the space between them as much as possible. When they are this close, he can see Crowley's eyes even through the black glasses and he desperately wants to see Crowley's eyes now!

When they have completed the circle, Crowley turns outwards and the embrace is dissolved, the body heat gone. They step back into the normal waltz routine. They hear Marida talking somewhere in the room but they don't pay attention. Suddenly, the music is switched on.

They do the routine again, the spin, the embrace, the circling and then another spin to get back to the starting position. Neither of them talk but as they spin around each other, their eyes become invariably locked. Aziraphale has the beat as surely as ever and Crowley only has to follow him, to relax, grab his hands and turn when needed. After they have done the sequence three or four times, Aziraphale stops. “Would you like to switch?” he asks. His voice sounds far away as if his thoughts were somewhere different.

“Hmmm?”, Crowley's head snaps a little as if he too has to remind himself of where he is. “Oh, yeah. Good idea!”

Crowley switches into the leading position but it is Aziraphale who counts them in. “One, two three.” They start dancing, smoothly gliding over the floor. After a few steps, Crowley attempts the turn. He raises his hand to give Aziraphale a sign. They both slow down as they try to remember the opposite steps. A second later, Marida is with them. She wants to help but soon realises that there is no need, as Aziraphale turns inwards, wrapping his own arm around himself and taking Crowley's hand. They freeze for a second, Aziraphale looking up at Cowley. Very close. Their fingers on their right hands are intertwined and neither can remember who's fault that is.

Aziraphale is feeling very warm. Holding Crowley was nice enough but this, this is different. Being embraced and held with Crowley's face so close to his own... They have to start moving soon or he is going to do something stupid. Crowley's expression is very focused, his gaze piercing. They start to turn around each other, Aziraphale following. Then, he makes the outward turn and the moment is over. They continue with the normal waltz steps.

“I think this works better”, Aziraphale says finally: “At least while you are wearing these shoes.”

Crowley laughs. His smile has a sharp edge. “If you say one more word about my shoes, Angel, I'm going to wear my 5 inch high heels next time.”

Aziraphale laughs. “Oh,” he says indistinctly since he cannot decide if he should protest or encourage that idea.

After a while, they have the routine down in the current roles. Crowley is doing a good job leading and Aziraphale has warmed up to the idea of being led. “Very nice! Well done, all of you!”, Marida says after she has observed the room for a while. “As you have these steps down now, I think this is the perfect time for me to remind you that you can sneak in a quick kiss on the cheek there, while you are turning around each other. This is a couple's dancing class after all!” There are smiles all around the room as some of the couples who are currently spinning are implementing the idea immediately, with more or less success as it throws some of them out of rhythm.

Aziraphale is in the process of turning inwards and taking Crowley's hand, who has turned about as red as his hair. They are not looking at each other now. Aziraphale has not turned his head to face the demon. This is a chance, Crowley thinks, and he'll be blessed if he doesn't take it!

The angel has blushed about as much as it is physically possible for him. Surely Crowley would never! Wouldn't even consider! And then, as he is turned, the demon circling around him, he suddenly feels the slight brush of lips against his neck. It's hesitant and soft and unlike anything you would expect from a spawn of hell. There is a sharp intake of air on Aziraphale's part. He closes his eyes for a moment, tightens his grip on Crowley's hands. It is over before he can be sure that it even happened and suddenly he realises that they never stopped spinning.

After they finished the current round, Crowley let's go of Aziraphale's right hand and the angel spins away from him only to return to the normal dance routine. Aziraphale looks at Crowley, who returns the gaze with the same, concentrated expression he had had earlier. Did he really just kiss the angel on the neck?

They continue dancing but they don't spin any more. They do the other step they had learned that is just a slight variation of the basic one but Crowley never raises his hand to initiate the other sequence. “Maybe we should swap again?”, Aziraphale suggests after they have made their way around the room twice.

Crowley nods. “Yes, alright”, he says.

The moment he gives over the role of leading partner, he seems to relax a little. Aziraphale smiles very softly at him and suddenly there is a small smile appearing in the corners of Crowley's mouth. “One, two, three.” They start.

“I think this is better”, Crowley says after a while: “I prefer this, actually.”

“Really?”, Aziraphale is a bit astonished: “Don't you like being in control?”

“Ah, well, when it comes to certain things...”, Crowley says vaguely. What he wants to say is: Not with you. With you I can never be in control.

They do a couple more spins and then Marida's voice orders them to listen to her again. “Alright, since you've all done remarkably well today, there is one last thing that I want to teach you. It is called a dip. You can do it to finish your dance and it looks really nice on wedding pictures.” She smiles brightly to the whole room. “So, if one of the gentlemen wants to assist me in this?”

There is a bit of silence, until Roger, the partner of Jen, speaks up. “I guess it's my turn now”, he says and walks over to Marida who thanks him warmly.

“Okay, so what you want to do is a normal step forward but then we'll slow down”, she explains once he has reached her: “We make the step, right for the leading partner, left for the one following and the leading partner bends their left knee like this, while the partner who is following leans back like this. So, Roger, you are going to move like this... Yes, perfect! And you will hold my weight. You can move your arm up from my waist to the shoulder-blade.” They do a dip and then one more, starting with a normal step and moving into the dip. “Very good!”, Marida praises: “Now everybody try. That will be the last new thing we do today.”

Crowley for one is glad to hear this. He feels exhausted. Not so much physically but mentally. He grasps Aziraphale's hand and shoulder again and they try the dip. It's easy enough but Crowley feels stiff. Something regarding this figure makes him uneasy. Maybe it's the fact that this was verbally associated with a wedding.

“Good!”, Marida says after a couple of minutes: “Now, let's just dance a few rounds to close things off. Maybe we can try a beat that's a bit faster?” She changes the music. “Have fun! And try to combine everything we have done so far! You can do the spin on it's own without the long routine. Just do as you please!”

They do. Despite the feeling earlier, Crowley finds joy in this new speed. They circle around the room faster, doing spins and turns and basically never resort to the standard step any more. That is totally Aziraphale's fault. He seems to have noticed the demon's gloomy demeanour and now makes him spin and twist all the time without giving him any sort of break. “Sssstop or you'll get me discorporated!”, Crowley finally hisses but it's accompanied by a sly smile that tells Aziraphale he is doing everything absolutely right. The angel smiles brightly, a bit out of breath himself. They get back into a rhythm, into the way it had felt, dancing in the bookshop or at the end of their first lesson, when they had finally figured it out. Moving in unison and barely needing any guidance from the other person to know what comes next.

“Very good!”, Marida shouts over the music: “Everybody, do a dip!” They do. Crowley makes the step and bends his back, while Aziraphale holds him. They are both beaming. “Now all you have to do is finish with a kiss and go home”, Marida says with a smile. There is a bit of chuckling around the room as the couple's do as they are told.

Crowley stares at Aziraphale. Had it been him, looking down at the angel, nothing would have happened. He would have completely frozen, like he does now. But it isn't him. It is Aziraphale in the lead and he is still smiling from ear to ear, hearing a command like all the other ones in this class today and Crowley had kissed his neck, so why not? Why on earth not?

His left hand let's go of Crowley's right one and he places it on Crowley's neck and shoulder, still holding him firmly at the back with his right arm. Still smiling, he bends down and kisses Crowley's lips.

Crowley doesn't respond. Not really. He wouldn't know how to and he is far to shocked to do anything at all. He just closes his eyes and let's himself be kissed, slowly, affectionately by warm, soft lips, feels the tips of the angel's fingers slightly dig into his skin at the back of his neck. At some point, he opens his mouth a bit but only slightly, pushing back a little just to show that this is good, that he wants this to continue.

Aziraphale doesn't stop. How could he stop, when they are finally close like this? When he can finally hold Crowley like he had wanted to, when he can feel his slight reciprocation as a sign that he can do this, that this is alright?

They have no idea how long they have been kissing but suddenly, there is a bit of giggling and laughter around them. Aziraphale draws back, immediately missing the connection. Most of the people in the room are staring at them. Marida is one of them. “Glad you enjoyed the lesson!”, she says: “And see you next time with as much enthusiasm!” She winks and leaves the room with a final good bye.

The other couples are grouping together, talking to each other.

Crowley slowly straightens himself. He stares at Aziraphale who can think of nothing else but that he wants to grab those dammed sunglasses and throw them against a wall to make them shatter. They withdraw their arms, truly separated now. Crowley opens his mouth but after a moment, he closes it again. “Well...”, the angel starts but he has no idea how to continue.

Suddenly, their thoughts are brought back from wherever they have been and they both give bit of a start as they hear a voice speaking to them from the right. “... only if you want to”, The woman named Rebecca says.

“Wh... What?”, Aziraphale stumbles.

“I said, some of us are going for drinks, if you want to join us?”, Rebecca repeats.

“I... uhm...”, the angel looks at Crowley, who makes a range of indefinable sounds.

“Ah... m... Yeah, why not”, the demon finally mumbles raising his eyebrows and his hands at the same time.

“Great!”, Rebecca smiles: “There is a bar nearby that serves excellent cocktails!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to look up a lot of dancing stuff for this one, so I hope it's worth it and not boring :)


	4. Chapter 4

They had walked to the bar in relative silence. One of the men had tried to talk to Aziraphale but he hadn't listened at all and then, after a pause had said something along the lines of: “Oh, yes, the weather is rather lovely today, isn't it?”, which had left his conversational partner very confused. Crowley had done his best to look at his feet the whole time, which resulted in him nearly bumping into everyone when they finally stopped in front of their destination. Now they are sitting at a table, Crowley, Aziraphale, Jen, Roger, Rebecca and her partner Charles. Crowley immediately orders the drink with the highest amount of alcohol while Aziraphale picks something sweet with cream in it.

“So”, Jen says with a curious smile: “How have the two of you met?” She looks between the demon and the angel with unconcealed curiosity. Crowley shoots Aziraphale a look, one of his eyebrows raised very high.

“Well”, Aziraphale starts: “We met in the very beginning in the garden. Crowley came up to me and talked to me and then it started to rain and I shielded him with my”

“Umbrella”, Crowley cuts in.

“Right”, Aziraphale says, clearly happy for the interruption: “And then it just”, he makes a little gesture with his hands: “Started from there.”

“Awww” That's so sweet!”, Jen says, putting her hand on her chest above her heart: “So romantic!”

Crowley looks around to see if the drinks are coming already while Aziraphale blushes a little. “How about you?”, he asks politely: “How did you two meet?”

“Oh”, Jen says: “That's a bit of a funny story: I met Roger at university, even though we did not even remotely study the same subject! It was during the first week and I went to the wrong lecture but I was so tired that I didn't realise until literally an hour into it. I scooted over to Roger and asked if this was not the introduction lecture for chemistry? As it turned out, it was a lecture on forestry...”

“I admired her sheer level of absent mindedness, to miss the topic of a lecture for a whole hour”, Roger took over: “So naturally, I asked her out.”

They smile at each other which makes Aziraphale smile too. “Such a lovely story!”, he says. Fortunately for Crowley, the drinks arrive at this point.

“How about you?”, Jen asks Rebecca: “How did you guys meet?”

Rebecca lets out a snorting sound. “Well, we certainly did not meet in a park and walked together in the rain! We met in a bar like completely normal, boring people.”

There is an edge to her voice that makes Crowley sit up. “What's that supposed to mean?”, he snaps.

“It's very unlikely, isn't it?”, Rebecca goes on: “Meeting like that? Sounds like a cliché out of a bad romance novel, if you ask me...” She takes a sip from her glass.

“You calling us liars?”, Crowley hisses, baring his teeth: “And for your information: When we met, these clichés didn't even exist yet!”

“Now, there is no need to be rude”, the angel says, stopping a longer rant. Crowley wants to snap at him too, until he turns his head and realises that the words are not directed at him but at that woman Rebecca. Good! Crowley takes a large gulp of his drink.

Jen looks between them, clearly noticing the tension in the air.

“It does not matter if you believe us, since that is what happened”, Aziraphale states with that certain, stiff politeness that he only shows when he is really affronted.

“I still think it's lovely”, Jen interjects, directing her gaze towards Crowley who has already downed half his glass. “What made you go over and talk to him?”, she asks.

 _Oh no!_ Crowley's mind gets blank. Everybody is staring at him now, including an angel who's eyes are very soft but at the same time interested in a way that almost makes Crowley's heart stop. “Uh...”, he closes his mouth and starts again: “I...uh... was curious and he looked non threatening”, he says as honestly and truthfully as he can. It's part of the truth after all.

Suddenly, he has to look at Aziraphale, at that little smile on the angel's face as he realises the truth of these words and a little bit of regret in his eyes at whatever he thinks is implied in them.

“Why did you shield me from the rain?”, the demon suddenly blurts out, the rest of the company momentarily forgotten.

Aziraphale blinks. He pauses, studies Crowley's face for a moment then his gaze shifts to the table abruptly. “So you wouldn't get wet, of course”, he replies. There is a bit of laughter from the people around them but not from Crowley his gaze is fixed on the angel, piercing, as if he were hoping to see into his skull.

“And after the park? What was your first date together?”, Jen asks, reminding them that they are in fact not alone with each other.

Crowley is still staring at Aziraphale who feels like he must be sweating even though that should be impossible. “Ah” he says, wrecking is brain for a possible answer: “That must have been in... yes, I asked him to go to a restaurant with me and we had oysters together.” Despite the current distress that he feels, he smiles fondly at the memories.

“You had oysters”, Crowley corrects him: “I don't eat.”

“Why am I not surprised?”, Rebecca remarks in a sarcastic tone which instantly makes Crowley's head snaps towards her.

“Listen, woman, I don't know what your problem issss, but why don't y...” Aziraphale puts his hand on Crowley's. It's at an angle and his fingers slightly curl around so that the tips touch Crowley's palm. This immediately shuts the demon up.

“It's alright my dear, I'm sure this was not meant as an insult”, the angel says, his eyes narrowing, his voice remarkably similar to a threat.

“'Course not”, Rebecca answers, realising the rising animosity against her. “Maybe I'm just jealous”, she shrugs.

“You got nothing to be jealous about”, Charles assures her and Jen takes this as an opportunity to ask the two of them about their first date.

As the conversation goes on, Aziraphale's hand remains on Crowley's, he just can't help himself. He can't let go now that he has it, now that Crowley apparently feels no need to pull away. Crowley in turn sits there, completely stiff and for his unwillingness to move, entirely unable to drink. But he feels the warmth of Aziraphale's touch that completely makes up for it. He is afraid to curl his fingers and grab the hand properly because maybe the angel has forgotten that it is still there and that would remind him...

It is a bit strange that this feels so new and somehow forbidden when they have done nothing but hold hands during the entire course of the dancing lessons. Then, however, it had been out of necessity, because it was required for the posture. This, this is different, self initiated, autonomous.

The conversation floats on without them but they don't really mind. Neither of them are paying much attention. The others are talking about their upcoming weddings which is a topic they don't really want to be brought into. But then, out of nowhere, Jen seems to remember that they are also sitting at the table and in an effort to include them, she asks: “So, how about you two? Do you ever plan on getting married?”

The reaction is instantaneous. Neither of them know who's fault it is but suddenly, their joined hands jerk upwards, fingers separating with such a force that Aziraphale knocks over his drink and spills the contents over the table, where his right arm is still resting, colouring his sleeve with a blue stain. “Oh, oh, dear, oh, no...” Aziraphale lifts his sleeve to look at the stain. “Oh, I think I have to”, he shoots a look at Crowley: “Wash it out immediately... please excuse me... I'll be right back...” Aziraphale rushes off in a fuss, while the others proceed to dry the table. Crowley looks after the angel.

“I'm so sorry!”, Jen says, mopping up the last remains of Aziraphale's drink with her napkin: “I didn't mean to... I guess, marriage is a sore topic for you two? I didn't mean to cause you any distress. “<

Yeah, no”, Crowley says, his mind completely elsewhere. Did he let go like this? Did he jerk away Aziraphale's hand with such force? He realises that everybody is looking at him. “Our families don't get along”, he explains vaguely: “They don't know... they don't know about...” He makes a gesture.

Jen nods immediately. “I understand!”, she says: “It must be hard after you've been in love for so long!”

Crowley feels gutted. He has never talked about this! Not ever, with no one! “Yeah!”, he says: “6000 years!” and with that, he downs his drink in one. Rebecca raises her eyebrows but before she can say something, Crowley's upper body darts forward towards the table. “It at least feels like it!”, he hisses: “6000 years without any form of commitment! I just want....” He looks around, making sure that the angel is not in hearing distance: “I want _something_!” Everybody is looking at him sympathetically and his stomach turns. “Not a word!”, he commands: “Not a word of this to him!”

They all nod. Jen smiles. She leans forward and touches Crowley's wrist. “I'm sure it's going to turn out fine! You're going to figure it out! He loves you very much!”

Crowley's jaw clenches. “You think that?”, he asks. His voice is small and very quiet.

“Oh, I know it!”, Jen affirms emphatically.

“Seriously, you are the cutest couple in the class!”, Rebecca chimes in: “I'm not even joking!”

Crowley doesn't know how to feel. These people don't know him. Don't know what it means to him to hear these words! But they also don't know Aziraphale. They have met him twice which is really a joke compared to the millennia that he has spend with him. What do they know? And yet, yet, he can't help but feel hopeful.

Suddenly, Aziraphale returns and Crowley is snapped out of his thoughts. “All better now!”, the angel says with a smile. The waiter comes over and they order new drinks to compensate for the spilled and other empty ones. In reality, Crowley is the only one who has finished his already.

“So, what were you talking about?”, Aziraphale asks innocently and Crowley's jaw clenches immediately. His teeth get bared just a bit.

“I was telling Crowley that you two are the cutest couple in the class”, Rebecca answers without hesitation: “Because it's true.”

Aziraphale smiles. “Thank you”, he says: “I guess our dancing could be better. Maybe if Crowley wore different shoes, I could spin him more easily...”

This remark brigs Crowley back into the conversation. “That's it, Angel!”, he exclaims: “That was one more word about my shoes!”

Aziraphale's eyes widen as he realises what he has done. “I didn't mean to...”, he blurts out but Crowley shakes his head.

“You said it! 'S too late now.”

“You know I like your shoes”, Aziraphale goes on, not sure why he is protesting.

“Doesn't matter!”, Crowley smiles his evil smile, so much sharper than his happy one: “You said it!”

They continue bickering for a while without noticing the looks they are getting from the rest of the table, fond and full of an understanding that they both seem to lack. The conversation moves on, focusing on lighter topics that centre around dancing. When Crowley goes on about his disco days, and how fun dancing was back then, everybody seems determined to convince him to wear one of his outfits to class. Aziraphale smiles fondly during the whole thing but he doesn't take the demon's hand any more.

When they finally all say good bye, Crowley is positively drunk. He isn't really sure what happened today but he knows that it will take some time for him to process it all. Swaying a bit from side to side, he waits while Aziraphale makes his farewells. Aziraphale is hugging everyone, all smiles and soft lines around his eyes. As it is finally Jen's turn, she pauses for a minute before she lets go completely, studying the angel's happy face. With a look over her shoulder, she makes sure that Crowley cannot hear her, before she leans in and says very quietly: “You should tell him that you love him more often! I think, he really needs to hear it! Sorry, if I'm being intrusive, I can't help it.”

Aziraphale swallows. He looks at Crowley, then at Jen. He nods. “I will try”, he says very quietly.

They don't talk much as they walk side by side. In fact, they don't talk at all. “Today was nice”, Aziraphale finally says, shooting a hesitant glance at the demon, who goes on as if he hadn't spoken: “Maybe we can meet tomorrow again, for practice?” The angel looks hopeful.

Crowley pauses. He just stops walking, eyes fixed in the distance. “I don't know”, he says, voice absent: “I got some...some stuff. I'll call you.”

Aziraphale's expression changes. This is new. He isn't sure Crowley has ever turned him down before. And just as this feeling spreads in his chest, he realises, for the first time in 6000 years, that Crowley actually has never turned him down! not ever! His heart doesn't know what to do with this information.

Crowley seems to register the change in the angle's mood because suddenly his voice gets soft. “Don't worry, I'll call you”, he says, which somehow makes it worse. The demon manages a short smile, before he turns around and leaves, Aziraphale staring after him, wondering, how this revelation could have escaped his conscious mind all this time?

When Crowley finally arrives home, he falls into his bed without undressing, feeling like he could sleep for at least a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little different. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Next chapter will be all about the dancing again! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Crowley doesn't call the next day. And he doesn't call the day after that. Logically, Aziraphale knows that he shouldn't be worried. After all, taking the last 6000 years as a reference, it is more unusual that they have been seeing each other every day lately. Not seeing each other for longer periods of time is actually what they have been doing for the most part since they have met. So, there really is no reason Aziraphale should assume that Crowley would call him directly the next day. He tries not to think about it and busy himself in the shop, makes himself some cocoa, reads in a few books that he has scattered everywhere around the shop and around his flat and generally tries to keep his mind occupied to not ask himself the same futile question every second: Why has he not called yet?

On the fourth day without any word, he gets nervous. Maybe he should call? Maybe Crowley is in trouble? Maybe something happened to him and he is waiting for the angel's help? Aziraphale walks up and down in front of the telephone as if his continuous, piercing gaze could make it ring somehow. If Crowley hadn't told him that he would call, the angel would have picked up the phone four days ago but now he doesn't want to seem like he is pushing it. If Crowley says, he will call then he will call! All Aziraphale can do is wait...

Crowley wakes up in a hazy daze. He feels warm, content and totally relaxed. At least he feels like this for approximately two seconds until his memories come crawling back into his mind to torture him. All he can think about is the way Aziraphale had looked at him, the way Aziraphale had touched his neck, how he had leaned in and...

Crowley turns over on his belly with a groan, burying his face in the pillow. Why did it have to come to this? Why did dancing have to be... this? Crowley had always loved dancing, had always danced in every decade, to every music in any outfit. He just loved it! And now his love for dancing has lead him here, directly into misery!

It's not the angel's fault, he thinks. Aziraphale had just done what he was told and why shouldn't he? He was always the one following orders more directly than Crowley ever would and he was a being of love. Why would he not express love from time to time in gestures? The implications of this makes Crowley's heart flutter but he tried to push that feeling down. Don't be ridiculous, he thinks, the angel has probably kissed hundreds of people over the last six centuries. At least, from the way he had kissed him, he got that it wasn't his first time. Well, it had been the first time for Crowley...

The thought is agonizing, the idea of _his_ angel with someone else. Crowley presses his face in the cushion forcefully as if the fact that he is now unable to breathe would change anything. It doesn't.

He turns around on his back and stares at the ceiling. What can he do? Keep his distance from the angel and see if it gets better somehow? The idea alone is ridiculous! Even a thousand years wouldn't make any difference and he knows it. He cannot escape this. He is fucked!

Unable to fall asleep again, he stands up, jolting out of his bed quite dramatically and walks over to his mirror. Grim features look at him, brows furrowed for no particular reason. Well, better get it over with quickly. There is no good in waiting.... He saunters over to his dresser, where he has put his cellphone yesterday. Yesterday? Shit! He checks the date again. Has he really slept for four days? And he had promised to call Aziraphale! Without missing a beat, he rushes to his answering machine only to discover that he has no missed calls. Well then... But in all fairness, Crowley _had_ told Aziraphale that he would be the one calling. After running his hand through his hair once and a very long sigh, he picks up the phone. As he dials the number he can't help it: A small smile creeps up his face at the thought of hearing the angel's voice.

His phone rings and Aziraphale basically darts forward to pick it up as quickly as possible. “Yes?”, he almost shouts.

There is a bit of a silence at the other end, before a very sharp but at the same time drawn out voice says: “You know, angel, when you answer your phone in the shop, you should respond in a way that customers know who you are. Right now, I could have been calling anybody. I wouldn't know, if I was a customer, if I've reached the right person or not. Could be talking to a butcher or a stock broker, or a blacksmith...”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous”, Aziraphale huffs, far too pleased to hear Crowley's voice to actually sound upset. “Are you alright?”, he adds, before he can stop himself.

Again, there is a pause. “So, how about dancing practice tonight?”, Crowley goes on as if he hadn't heard the question: “Shall I come over to the bookshop again?”

Crowley's voice sounds strained and tired. Something is wrong, Aziraphale thinks but he does not want to discuss this over the phone. Better ask when the demon is actually there. “Alright”, Aziraphale replies as cheerfully as he can in the hopes that his tone will have a positive effect on Crowley's mood: “That would be the best, I think.”

“Good”, Crowley pauses: “See you tonight.”

“See you then”, Aziraphale answers but he isn't sure that the connection has not already been broken. He puts the old fashioned telephone receiver down.

Suddenly, he feels nervous. There really is no reason for this feeling. He and Crowley have seen each other continuously ever since the Armageddon that didn't happen, so why should he be nervous now? But he can feel it, he could feel it ever since their last lesson. Something is changing. They are so close to something but neither of them can take the last step and Aziraphale isn't sure if he can be the one to do it. What if he is miscalculating? What if he is the only one desperate for a change, desperate for... something?

He tries to shake off this thought physically by walking around the shop, tidying up little things that he had left lying around during the last four days. They hadn't agreed on a time but he is somehow certain that he would not be waiting long.

It is a few hours later that the door to the bookshop swings open dramatically and a tall, lean figure steps in. Aziraphale's gaze shoots up quickly with the intention to look down at his book again to mark the page. He doesn't. Instead, he closes the book with a loud thud. “Oh, dear Lord!”, he exclaims before he can stop himself: “You look stunning!”

Crowley smiles broadly, showing all his teeth. He extends his arms away from his body and twirls elegantly on his tiptoes. “Told you I would do it”, he states once he has come to a standstill. He takes his glasses off, revealing crinkly lines around his eyes, and tosses them on one of the shelves: “And I am true to my word.”

That he is indeed! Crowley is wearing black 5 inch high heels with purple soles. Combined with the way he walks, it must be a literal miracle that he can keep himself upright. But that isn't all: Crowley's hair is a bit longer, falling around his face in soft curls. He has painted his nails in a colour that was described on the bottle as “black velvet” and they have a certain purple shimmer to them and of course he is wearing a long, black dress, that swings around his body as he walks and also had formed a perfect circle as he had twisted just now.

“It really suits you!”, Aziraphale goes on: “It's been such a long time since I have seen you in such a lovely dress! _Karneval_ 1951 in Germany, if I am not mistaken?”

“Aaah!”, Crowley's eyes light up: “Yes, that was quite a night, wasn't it?”

Aziraphale puts away the book and stands up. He is significantly shorter than Crowley in his heels. “I am afraid you will have to lead me this time. I don't think, I want to try and raise my arm that high...”

Crowley's eyebrows shoot up at that remark but he doesn't protest. “If you say so, angel”, he replies.

Aziraphale walks over to the gramophone and puts on the same music they had danced to the first time they had done this in his bookshop. Crowley positions himself in the middle of the room and waits for him. Shortly after the music starts, their hands meet. The angel puts his palm on the demon's shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of the dress under his fingertips. At the same time there is a familiar pressure on his waist, as long, stable fingers come to a rest on it. “Ready?”, Crowley asks. His voice sounds very low.

Aziraphale nods. “Yes.”

“One, two, three.” They start.

It's slower than in class because it is the practising music that is slow and easy to follow. Crowley holds Aziraphale very tightly, the height difference affecting the way they move. Somehow it is easier to get physically closer now. Aziraphale feels lighter, dancing more on his tiptoes. To him, Crowley's presence seems warm and safe. It's incredible how he can move so surely, steadily. He smells a bit different and Aziraphale wonders if he has put something new in his hair.

Crowley hadn't expected this to be that good. As he had told Aziraphale, he preferred to follow but right now that doesn't matter. Something about this feels right. Maybe it is the fact that they are somehow even closer than they were all the times before. Or maybe that is just in Crowley's imagination? He spins Aziraphale around, going straight back to the normal step. It takes a few more moments before he dares to do the longer routine, spin the angel, pull him in and circle around him. Aziraphale smiles brightly. His eyes sparkle. He is just so happy. Well, he loves dancing, Crowley reminds himself, but his heart does not want to listen to his head. Instead, it starts beating faster, hoping. His emotions travel straight to his eyes, which are still locked with Aziraphale's. They spin and spin, looking at each other, totally, wonderfully happy. Until Crowley finally releases him and the angle spins away, only for his hand to come back to Crowley's in the next instance.

The song ends and out of an impulse, Crowley tries the dip. Well, it doesn't work, at least not as intended. Aziraphale stumbles a bit, as he realises too late what the demon has planned. As he tries to oblige, he falls back but in the next instance, strong, sure hands have caught him. The angel laughs in surprise as he is held in the perfect position, never mind his ungraceful way of getting there. The grip of his left hand has switched from Crowley's shoulder to his upper arm and is very tight. But Crowley too is holding him very firmly as if he is afraid the angel could slip every moment.

They look at each other. This is it, the exact same position they had been in, when Marida had given that command in class, when Aziraphale had leaned down. Now it is Crowley looking down on him and Aziraphale thinks, is absolutely sure that he will be kissed now! The demon's eyes are so bright, so absolutely bursting with happiness! Aziraphale's face lights up with the prospect, a shining smile that totally eclipses all that have come before.

Only, Crowley doesn't lean down, doesn't bring their lips together. He just looks at Aziraphale and his expression suddenly changes. The smile fades, his eyes darken. It is so quick that Aziraphale can hardly process it, sadness creeping up in him and taking possession of every feature in Crowley's face. His lips are still slightly open from the smile but now it looks like he wants to say something but can't, the desperation so clearly visible in his eyes. That is all Aziraphale can see: A desperate need but no way to express it: eyes so very vulnerable, full of sorrow and grief and desperate longing.

With a sudden movement, Crowley lifts him up to his feet and let's go, withdraws his hands and his gaze and turns around. “I have to leave”, he says with the most artificially neutral expression that rings horribly in the angel's ears. Any form of emotion would have been less hurtful, less telling. He stares at the demon as he walks towards the door, completely frozen, his mind desperately trying to make any kind of decision.

Suddenly he leaps forward. “Crowley!”, he exclaims, rushing towards his friend who does not turn around. He grabs him by his left arm but the demon will still not turn, so he takes two steps around him until he is standing directly in front of him and without saying a word, without even losing an iota of precious time, he grabs Crowley by the neck and kisses him. It is short and messy and highly inelegant and it is over in a moment.

“Please don't go!”, Aziraphale says. His voice is soft and sounds like he might start crying: “Why don't you stay? Stay with me! Please! Don’t leave! Don’t leave me, Crowley...” That is about all he can say, before he is kissed again, hurriedly, desperately, with about 6000 years of longing behind it. It's again very short, a rushed press of lips against his, fingers digging into his shoulder and his back. Suddenly, Crowley is no longer kissing but embracing him, holding him as close as it is physically possible, burying his face in his shoulder and breathing heavily against him. His arms are like vices, holding on as if they never want to let go again.

“Oh, Crowley!”, Aziraphale says, using all his willpower not to break into tears because this is so overwhelming. He hadn't realised it before but now he can feel it: This immeasurable longing for love and he cannot help but give in, give all the love he can offer and hope that it will be enough, that he will be able to quench that thirst that is so evident in Crowley's every move.

So he starts speaking without thinking, giving everything he can, trying to articulate what he has carried in his heart for decades, one of his hands gently brushing over the back of Crowley's head: “I love you too, of course I love you. Don't you know that, my dear, my darling? You must know how I love you so incredibly much! And I am so very sorry for all the hurt that I have caused you! I didn't mean to! And I will make it all up to you, my love! I promise! I will tell you every day how much I love you, from now on till eternity, because I do, I love you so dearly, so incredibly! I love you, Crowley, with all my grace and all my heart!”

One of Crowley's hands lets go and moves up the angel's body as he slowly pulls himself back a little. Both of his hands are holding Aziraphale's face now while Crowley looks at him, wonder in his eyes and a certain hopeful doubt as if he still could not believe it, as if saying it seven times had not been nearly enough. Aziraphale is sure that there are tears in his own eyes now, which Crowley seems to realise. His lips curl upwards in a very soft smile that is almost too subtle to see.

He leans in and kisses Aziraphale, softly, deeply. What he lacks in technique, he makes up for with passion and determination, revelling in all the soft touches, the soft noises that Aziraphale is making. The angel slides his hand in Crowley's hair and puts the other one on his back, pressing, stroking, pulling him closer. He starts taking the lead a bit, gently biting Crowley's lower lip and guiding his tongue. Crowley moans. He takes note of every movement, every shift, tries to learn and replicate what Aziraphale is doing. But there are certain things that only Crowley can do with his tongue and the angel seems to enjoy all of them very much. It is a good thing that neither of them need to breathe.

When they finally separate it is only their lips as the rest of their bodies stays connected, their foreheads pressed together. They are both panting but not really for lack of oxygen. They are also both smiling, relaxed and relieved.

“How long?”, Aziraphale finally wants to know.

Crowley closes his eyes. He shakes his head slowly. “No. Don't ask”, he says quietly.

But Aziraphale doesn't listen. He needs to know! “I think I have been in love with you for a long time but I only realised it in that church, when you saved my books”, he says, thinking that it will be easier for Crowley if he starts. That, however, has been a miscalculation. Crowley let's out a pained sound. His face twitches but he keeps the connection. “Earlier then?”, Aziraphale asks: “For you?” The demon doesn't answer. “Was it in France?”, Aziraphale continues but there is still no response. “Shakespeare?” He sounds puzzled now. His eyes widen. “Rome?”, he goes on as if he couldn't believe it himself.

“Just stop!”, Crowley mumbles and something in Aziraphale's chest tightens.

“No...”, he stumbles: “That can't be... ever since the ark?”

Crowley's head falls on the angel's shoulder, hiding his face in the fabric of the beige vest, his arms clinging to him more firmly. “Seriously, sssshut up!”, he mumbles and a hollow feeling takes possession of the angel's chest as the realisation hits him: So long! So incredibly long!

“Mesopotamia?”, he tries one last time but he can feel Crowley shake his head again.

“Angel, I've been in love with you ever since you gave away that blessed sword!”, a voice tells him, somewhere near his left ear. It speaks with shame and regret and despair: “I guess I've always gone too fast for you, ever since the beginning...”

Oh no! Now Aziraphale is definitely crying. “I am so sorry!”, he says and Crowley's head shoots up immediately. “I should have never said that to you.... I...”

The angel stops as Crowley tenderly brushes his cheeks with his thumbs. “Shhhh, it's alright”, he says, desperate for the angel to stop crying: “Don't! Please! It doesn't matter now. You were worth the wait. No matter how long it took, you would have always been worth the wait.”

That makes the angel cry even more and Crowley pulls him in for a hug. He kisses his cheek and then, very tenderly, he places two kisses right under Aziraphale's eyes before he kisses his lips again. Aziraphale can taste the salt of his own tears. He breathes in slowly and relaxes. “Maybe we should lie down”, he proposes, realising how much he had been shaking: “I have a bed upstairs.” Crowley just nods and Aziraphale takes his hand, intertwining their fingers.

He leads the way. The bed looks tidy and proper like a bed, nobody ever sleeps in. That is probably because Aziraphale never sleeps in it. Crowley kicks off his shoes, immediately shrinking back to his normal height, and crawls onto the bed. Aziraphale does the same but he puts away his shoes properly. Immediately, they are entangled again, Crowley's head against Aziraphale's chest, Aziraphale's arm draped around him, hand in his hair. Their legs are wound around each other, their whole bodies pressed together.

They stay like this for a moment, just enjoying each other's presence, the fact that they are able to hold each other like this now, without any doubt in their hearts. Aziraphale's fingers draw slow circles on Crowley's scalp while the demon traces the lines of the angel's body with his right hand, brushing over his shoulder, his torso, along the lines of his hip and waist.

“Why did you decide to speak to me in the garden?”, Aziraphale asks after a while. It has been on his mind ever since Crowley had answered this question the first time and he is sure that he has not gotten the complete answer yet.

Crowley raises his head, his right hand moves to the angel's face. Carefully, he pushes himself up so that their eyes are on the same level. He has an open expression that Aziraphale has not seen very often, soft and kind and honest. “I talked to you because I wanted to”, he says: “I was lonely. There was no one around who understood me. I saw you and I was curious”, he smiles: “I talked to you because you looked ... kind.” Aziraphale's face lights up in a very pure smile that is not so much wide but deep in a way that it comes directly from his heart, out of a warm, intimate feeling that has filled his chest and is now spreading through his whole body, love pouring out of his eyes and from his lips. Crowley is overwhelmed with the sight of sheer happiness in front of him and can do nothing but laugh a little, soft and quiet.

Aziraphale leans in and they kiss again, earnestly, without rush. Already it feels familiar, as if they've never done anything else than this. “Why did you shield me from the rain?”, Crowley finally returns the question. Their faces are still very close, the tips of their noses almost touching. He needs to know.

In a loving gesture, Aziraphale brushes back some of Crowley's curls. “Because I wanted to, my dear”, he echoes the demon's words: “Because you talked to me in a way nobody else did. You listened to me and to my fears and you actually helped me.” Crowley raises his eyebrows. “You did!”, Aziraphale insists: “And you still do! It amazes me, really, how you can be so logical and intelligent about these things. And you never look down on me. Not in the way...you know...”

His eyes shift, breaking the contact and Crowley immediately feels a wave of anger rise up inside him. “Bl... - curse heaven!”, he proclaims: “Be a pleasure to bite all of their divine heads off! They never treated you the way you deserve!”

Aziraphale tries not to look too pleased about this because technically, he shouldn't condone this kind of violence against other beings. In this case, however, he is pretty sure he can make one, well... several exceptions. “But you did”, he says, fondly, caressing the demon's cheek: “...you do!”

Crowley smiles. How can he be furious in the face of such happiness in front of him? Besides, there is still some time to get angry about heaven later. Right now, all he wants to do is to enjoy this. This closeness, not only of their bodies but of their minds as well. “I try”, he says in a low voice before he leans in to kiss Aziraphale again.

They have no idea how long they stay in bed like this, holding each other, occasionally talking, hands brushing over each other's bodies, sometimes lazy, sometimes with intent. There is no need to rush anything. At this moment, they just enjoy each other's company. After all, as Aziraphale has said, they have from now till eternity...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the incredible [AccroV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccroV/pseuds/AccroV) for the support and comments on this chapter! It really helped out a lot! <3  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

The bed definitely gets more used in the following two days than it had been in all of the last decade. Crowley likes being in bed. He likes being at Aziraphale's apartment and he also likes sleeping. It relaxes him and even though it has hardly been used, the sheets and cushions still smell like the angel.

Aziraphale likes to be with Crowley. He also likes to watch him sleep, when his face is totally relaxed, free from any form of sorrow or stress. He likes to ruffle his hair while he cannot protest and feel his warmth, his breathing against his own ribcage.

Today is Tuesday again, which means another dancing lesson. Crowley wakes up warm and content. He stretches and turns over on his belly to bury his face in the cushion, the smell of Aziraphale all around him. The angel is not here, at least he is not lying in bed with him. Slowly, Crowley gets up and runs his hands through his hair to make it stick up even more. He saunters out of the room and down the stairs, where he finds Aziraphale in his back-room with the crossword from the morning paper in his hand. Immediately, his heart fills with warmth as he takes in the picture of the angel, who is carefully sipping his cocoa and furrowing his brow with concentration but no real exertion, who is now truly, utterly _his_ angel.

As quietly as he can, he walks up to him, wrapping his arms around him from behind, placing a firm kiss on his cheek. “Morning, angel”, he whispers, voice still a bit heavy with sleep. Aziraphale turns his head and smiles brightly, his eyes lighting up in that special way that they always seem to do now when looking at Crowley. Or maybe they have done before and he hadn't noticed...

“Good morning, my dear”, Aziraphale says in reply and he lets go of his paper to put one hand on Crowley's neck and pull him in for a soft kiss. “Slept well?”, he asks.

Crowley smiles. He still cannot really grasp the fact that this soft, fond and happy expression is for him, only for him. “I did”, he says, still holding Aziraphale, leaning in so that his forehead and his hair brush the angel's face where he has kissed him just now, his nose trailing along Aziraphale's skin. He plant's another short kiss on the angel's jaw before getting up again.

Aziraphale immediately misses his warmth. Ever since that momentous revelation three days ago, Crowley has been absolutely open in his love and affection and Aziraphale basks in it, in all the meaningful touches, the tender smiles and most of all in the expression of Crowley's shining eyes. He cannot believe his luck! Crowley has waited for him for so long and yet he is still so tender, so absolutely forgiving and loving when he could have been furious and frustrated.

Ever since he has set eyes on the crossword, Aziraphale has marked a very particular question with his thumb and he cannot wait to read it out aloud. His body is twitching with anticipation, his eyes sparkling, smile very wide as he tries to sound nonchalant. “I have been doing the crossword all morning”, he says superfluously. Crowley raises his eyebrows. He knows, only by his expression that is basically bristling with anticipation, that the angel is planning something but he will not acknowledge that. Instead, he glances around the room, searching. “There is a coffee for you in the machine”, Aziraphale says happily. He has made that coffee without using a miracle. Well, maybe he had kept it warm a bit longer than usual, but who on earth enjoys cold coffee?

Crowley smiles and while he busies himself with pouring a cup of the black, steaming liquid, Aziraphale goes on in a voice that he thinks sounds inconspicuous. “Maybe you can help me with this one?”, he mutters: “'One's special person in life, a highly compatible friend'.”

Crowley turns around, leaning against the counter in a way that cannot possibly be comfortable, neither for him nor the counter. His elbows are resting on it, the rest of his body sprawled out, his face contracted in a seemingly puzzled expression that gives Aziraphale the feeling that his leg is about to be pulled.

“Hmmm”, Crowley says as if he is actually contemplating the answer. “Wily adversary?”, he suggests.

Aziraphale's smile widens. “It has eight letters”, he helps.

“Nemesis?”, Crowley tries again.

“I said eight letters”, Aziraphale corrects him. Somehow, this is not going the way he had planned.

“Fine!”, Crowley says with a sharp edge to his smile: “How about nemesiss?”, he hisses and Aziraphale cannot help but giggle. The demon gets up with a jolt, grabs the other chair and places it right next to his. He puts his mug on the table and takes the angel's hand, intertwining their fingers. “Aziraphale”, he says. And the angel waits, until he realises.

“Oh”, his cheeks turn slightly pink: “That's two letters too much, I'm afraid.”

“Not for me”, Crowley answers and it is so incredibly sappy and so incredibly sweet that Aziraphale just has to kiss him.

“Soulmate”, he whispers: “The word I'm looking for is Soulmate.”

***

They arrive to the dancing hall exactly on time. Marida looks up as they enter and smiles. They are holding hands and neither of them think about letting go. This is a couple's dancing class after all...

Jen smiles and waves at them, while Roger gives them a warm smile. Rebecca and Charles also greet them with some enthusiasm that leaves them puzzled for a moment but then Aziraphale warmly returns the greetings, while Crowley manages a small smile. How can he not smile, when he is holding Aziraphale's hand?

“Now that everybody is here, please take your positions”, Marida commands them: “We will revise first before I show you new steps. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. For now, just dance and try everything, we have done so far. If I see anything that needs correction, I will let you know.”

Aziraphale and Crowley assume their position. The angel naturally taking the leading part. “One, two, three”, he counts them in and they start.

They realise the difference straight away! Before, they had always been tense, even when the steps were seamlessly flowing, terrified that the other person would notice a slight move of hands or a certain look, a hopeful smile. Now all these concerns are in the past. Now they can look and touch and smile however much they want to without worrying. On the contrary! They can feel responding touches, see responding looks, smiles widening and eyes sparkling. Crowley is wearing his shades of course but they are so very close and Aziraphale can see the wrinkles on his face, even though he can sometimes not see through the tinted class.

“Perfect!”, Marida says after a while: “now let's go through the different figures together to make sure you got them down: First the basic box step.” They do as they are told. “Now the underarm turn.” Again everybody follows the instructions. “Perfect!” Marida continues going through what they have learned so far until she has reached the last figure. “Very good! I can see, you have all been practising! You can be proud of yourselves, you have made great progress!” At these words, two entities in the room exchange a meaningful glance.

“What we are going to learn now is called 'pivot' and it is basically a step in which you swirl around each other. It gives a certain energy and is great fun. I'm going to need a partner to demonstrate. Someone strong who can swirl me?”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley with raised eyebrows. “Fine!”, the demon grumbles but Marida stops him with a gesture of her hand.

“Since you are dancing the leading steps, why don't you help me, Aziraphale?”, she asks with a smile. Suddenly, Crowley has the feeling that he has witnessed something monumental. A situation, he has heard about but not yet experienced. Well, he is a demon and has never been to school...

Aziraphale steps forward and tries to smile politely but Crowley can basically feel the reluctance seeping out of him. “I will demonstrate the steps first”, Marida goes on without noticing: “The leading partner will start with the right foot: Forward, side, close, then a step back and pivot.” She makes a half spin on her left heel. “Then they continue with forward, side, close.” Aziraphale watches her intently, determined to get it right the first time. “The partner who follows starts with the left foot: back, side, close, forward, pivot.” She makes a half turn on her right toes. “And then back, side, close. That's it.” She shows the steps again, Aziraphale already mimicking the leading ones. “Perfect!”, Marida says: “Shall we try together?”

Crowley can't help but smile as he sees, how stiffly the angel takes Marida's hand and holds her, shoulders tense and posture very upright and proper. He is sure, from glancing at the mirrors when they have danced past them, that there is a worlds difference between how he is standing now and how he had been dancing with Crowley. There is a bit of a suppressed smile on Marida's face. She must have noticed too.

They demonstrate and Aziraphale swirls quite competently. It looks fast and interesting. “Thank you”, Marida says, releasing Aziraphale's hand: “You may now return to your preferred dancing partner.”

She winks and the angel blushes. After a little bow and a very low and quick: “Thank you”, he returns to Crowley's side.

“You did great, angel!”, Crowley whispers, realising with pride, how his angel immediately relaxes in his grip.

“Thank you”, he says softly and a lot more earnestly.

They do the pivot and it really is great fun! Aziraphale let's out a surprised giggle, as they spin for the first time and he realises that he actually has to hold Crowley tight in order for them not to fall over. The demon certainly has more wild enthusiasm and speed than the dancing instructor! Soon they spin and spin without stopping, until they are both laughing. It seems like a miracle that they find their way back to the basic steps without stumbling.

Jen and Roger once crash into them, their own spinning having gone out of control but they all recover smoothly and under a lot of apologies. “Since you seem to be enjoying all of that pivoting so much, I'm going to show you the natural spin as well”, Marida declares after a while.

When the dancing lesson finally finishes, they are all a bit dizzy but very happy. Crowley is sure that he has never smiled so much in such a short amount of time. Well, in the last three days he has certainly smiled more than in the last century.

“Before you all leave, I want to announce something”, Marida says: “In two months we will be having a ball to celebrate the end of our dancing course. For that, I would like to have a little dancing competition, where each of the couples in this class prepares a short routine. I wanted to let you know now because I think you already know enough steps to start, in case you want to participate. You absolutely don't have to but it is more fun the more people join in, so I hope everyone in this room will prepare something. If you need help or advice, you can ask me.” She looks around but nobody seems to have any acute questions. “Thank you! Ill see you next week,” She finishes her speech with a smile.

“Do you want to participate?”, Aziraphale asks in a hopeful voice right next to Crowley's ear.

“Participate?”, Crowley snarls right back as quietly as possible: “I want to annihilate the competition!”

Aziraphale beams. He would have phrased it differently, perhaps, but his thought had been exactly the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the lovely [AccroV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccroV/pseuds/AccroV) for proofreading and all the great and truly helpful comments on this chapter!  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

“So, cocktails again?”, Jen asks enthusiastically looking around the room. Most of the people present shake their heads.

“I think I cannot drink again on a workday”, Charles declares.

Rebecca shoots him a look with a raised eyebrow. “I absolutely can!”, she retorts.

“Alright then, honey!”, Charles says, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a quick kiss: “Have fun! Let me know if I need to pick you up later.”

The five of them go on: Aziraphale, Crowley, Jen, Roger and Rebecca. Despite her enthusiastic invitation, Jen is typing furiously on her phone with furrowed brows while they are walking. “I cannot believe it!”, she mutters under her breath.

“What seems to be the problem?”, Aziraphale enquires politely.

There is a short pause before Roger decides to answer in his fiancée's stead. “We have a problem with the band for our wedding. They have apparently forgotten that we booked them and now they say that they are not available any more. Jen has tried to persuade them to honour the agreement but they just won't listen...”

“Musicians!”, Rebecca says in a criticising tone: “So unreliable!”

“We have to get them back somehow!”, Jen says, putting away her phone: “So close to the wedding it would take a miracle to find another band!”

Aziraphale raises his eyebrows. “Really?”, he asks, shooting a look at Crowley, who sighs immediately.

“Yeah, alright....”, he mumbles: “I think I know a guy, just tell me what kind of music you would like....”

Jen's eyes light up and she grabs Crowley's arm enthusiastically. “Really, you sure?”, she asks.

“We would be forever indebted to you!”, Roger adds, matching his fiancée's delight with his voice but without grabbing anyone.

“I'll see what I can do...”, Crowley sounds dismissive but somehow Aziraphale suspects that he doesn't mind.

“So, you know many musicians?”, Rebecca asks.

 _If you only knew!_ Crowley shoots her a glance. “A few”, he says briefly.

They sit down in the same place they had been too last time, Crowley, again, ordering something with lots of alcohol while Aziraphale goes for something lighter and sweeter. Once their order has been placed, Jen leans forward curiously. “So”, she says: “You have not told us what you do for a living yet.” Even though this is technically not a question, it is spoken like one.

“I own a bookshop in Soho”, Aziraphale replies quite happily and Jen's face lights up.

“Oh, how interesting!”, she says: “I have to come visit you and buy a book some day!”

Aziraphale can hear Crowley snorting next to him and, as he shoots him a look, he can see the hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth. “Yes”, Aziraphale tries to go on as if he hadn't noticed: “That would be....lovely.”

The smile on the demon's face has widened into his characteristically evil grin. “As long as you don't touch his first editions, and don't try to buy anything by Oscar Wilde, you should be safe”, he assures her. Jen raises her eyebrows at that but doesn't comment.

“What do you do then?”, Rebecca asks, looking at Crowley: “I don't suppose you work in the same shop?”

“No”, Crowley says and then stops. What can he say? Humans are expected to have jobs to pay for things...but he just... doesn't. His brain short-circuits as he tries to think of the last thing he did that humans would call a 'job'. “I'm a nanny”, he finally blurts out, getting surprised faces from everyone, including the angel.

“A nanny?”, Roger asks being the first one to recover from the shock: “Isn't that a bit unusual for a man?”

Crowley doesn't know what to say. What a strange question. Humans and their categories! He will never understand that. “Well...”, he starts, shooting a look at Aziraphale, who also seems puzzled: “I've never really thought about that. I mean, I don't see myself as strictly a man or a woman, I just do what... feels right to me.” His voice sounds a bit unsettled and Aziraphale takes his hand without thinking, intertwining their fingers.

“Oh”, Roger says, clearly embarrassed: “I'm sorry.”

There is a bit of a silence in which their drinks arrive but as soon as the waitress leaves, the awkward silence proceeds. “Sorry for being so blunt but I've never met a person like you before”, Rebecca says and Aziraphale flinches a bit. He does not want Crowley to feel as if he doesn't belong. “Does this mean, we have addressed you with the wrong pronouns all this time?”, she goes on: “Or is 'he' and 'him' okay?”

This has not taken the turn that they had expected and Crowley doesn't know how to reply. “Uhm...”, he has never really thought about this before. “I guess people just go by my looks and then call me what they think is fitting?”, he sounds unsure: “When I'm wearing a dress, they call me 'she' and when I'm not, they call me 'he'.”

“Oh, so you wear dresses?”, Jen cuts in: “Will you be wearing a dress to the final ball?”

Crowley smiles and the atmosphere relaxes a bit. “Maybe”, he says. Normally, nobody is really interested in what he is wearing, especially not the other demons.

“We haven't seen you in your disco outfit yet!”, Rebecca reminds him in a demanding tone, which makes the demon's expression darken in an instant.

“Well, I'm not a dancing monkey, am I?”, he hisses and Rebecca raises her hands in defence.

“I was just saying... I think you would look stunning in a dress, by the way. You got a great physique.”

“He really does!”, Aziraphale confirms with a smile and Crowley doesn't know how to react. Instead of saying anything, he squeezes Aziraphale's hand slightly, which makes the angel's smile even brighter.

“You know what I hate about dresses?”, Jen moves the conversation along: “They don't have pockets! Whoever had the idea that women don't need pockets must have been a real demon bent on tormenting us! There are even jeans that don't have pockets? What's the point of that?”

Crowley sighs, very deeply. It is a sigh of understanding and of boundless regret. “Believe me”, he says: “I know!”

The conversation continues in this vain as they are talking about clothes and Aziraphale realises to his surprise that Crowley actually has a very good understanding of different styles and eras and the appropriate vocabulary to have competent and long discussions on the topic. Since Aziraphale has never really been concerned with fashion trends and the accompanying talk, he mostly listens, only to pepper in some compliments for Crowley when he is talking about a particular outfit that he once wore. Every time Aziraphale compliments him, a slight blush appears on the demon's cheeks. But he goes on without acknowledging it.

It is another pleasant evening and this time, no drinks are spilled. When they are asked a question about their relationship, Aziraphale and Crowley smile fondly at each other before one of them bends the truth a little to make up something appropriate that is still close enough to reality.

As they finally say their farewells, not only Aziraphale but also Crowley is hugged by Rebecca and Jen. “I am glad that you two are so happy”, Jen whispers into Aziraphale's ear.

The angel smiles. “It seems that you were right the last time!”, he answers quietly.

They are both a little tipsy, maybe on the brink of being truly drunk but they have no intention of sobering up right now. Aziraphale feels very light and Crowley has started giggling at random things. They are walking side by side, holding hands and from time to time one of them grabs the other's arm with their free hand to draw them in a bit closer. “My place this time?”, Crowley asks and Aziraphale nods, before pulling him in for a kiss.

They arrive at Crowley's flat and as soon as the door shuts behind them, Aziraphale grabs Crowley by his coat and pins him against the wall. The demon grins and makes no attempt at resisting, the backs of his hands against the wall, slightly above his shoulders in a surrendering position. There is a spark in his eyes that speaks of hot fire and lust. Aziraphale has found out recently, that the demon quite likes being manhandled and he is more than happy to oblige, seeing Crowley's satisfaction and the malicious glee as he is being shoved and pinned down by strong hands.

Of course, Aziraphale had expected something like this, after all, Crowley is a demon but he had been rather surprised that his boyfriend liked to be at the receiving end of such roughness. He had assumed it to be the other way around.

Aziraphale leans in, pressing their bodies together, the tip of his nose brushing slightly against Crowley's their lips only an inch apart. When Crowley tries to lean in for a kiss, Aziraphale pushes him back slightly, shoving his head against the wall again. Crowley groans with discontent. Aziraphale smiles. “I liked listening to you today”, he says, lips teasingly close to Crowley's: “The way you talked about clothing was really interesting.”

“Glad I could be of help”, Crowley says under his breath. His eyes are almost closed as he keeps looking at the angel's lips but he doesn't make another attempt at kissing them.

“Maybe we can find a nice outfit for me too”, Aziraphale suggest, putting one hand in Crowley's hair so that he can pull the demon's head back.

Crowley obliges, giving the angel access to his neck and throat and immediately feeling hot kisses on his skin. “Yeah... maybe...”, he mutters absent mindedly, closing his eyes and revelling in the feeling of being pinned by Aziraphale, not only by his hands but by his whole body, pressed against him, strong and sure, giving him no room to move. ”Your clothes are good and all, but it would be nice to see you in something a bit more… fashionable.” Aziraphale kisses his way up his neck to his ear, grinding against him. Crowley can't help but moan. “Fuck, please kiss me already!”, he pleads. The angel withdraws a little and Crowley immediately misses his warmth.

“What a nice demon you are!”, he teases with a smile: “Saying 'please' and 'thank you'.” There is a mischievous sparkle in his eyes that Crowley absolutely lives for. He wants to grab the angel's neck, force him to close the distance between them but his right hand is stopped in mid air, shoved back against the wall, held firmly in place. In a heartbeat, his other wrist is secured in the same fashion. Now he truly cannot move. “Don't ask”, Aziraphale says, leaning in ever so slightly, his eyes alight his body strong and his voice commanding: “Tell me what you want.”

“Kiss me, angel”, Crowley says and immediately his wish is fulfilled. Aziraphale kisses him, deeply, passionately. He releases Crowley's left hand to grab his neck and pull him closer if that is even physically possible and Crowley's hand, now free, instantly goes to Aziraphale's waist, fingers trailing along is body.

Suddenly, Aziraphale withdraws a little, so that he can speak again. He has remembered something. “It is past midnight, my dear”, he whispers: “Which means, I have not told you that I love you today.” He smiles brightly. “I love you, Crowley.”

“Oh, fuck”, Crowley moans: “I love you too, angel! I love you! I love everything about you!” He smiles only for the fraction of a second, bright and incredibly happy, before he leans in and kisses him again.

As ethereal beings they do not need to sleep but tonight, Aziraphale falls asleep in Crowley's arms. They also don't need to eat but that does not stop Crowley from making them breakfast, more precisely, making Aziraphale breakfast. The angel stands beside him, as he toasts some bread, fries little sausages and onions with mushrooms, tomatoes and egg. From time to time, Aziraphale's hand darts out during the process, stealing bits and pieces to eat before they are quite ready. Crowley pretends to be annoyed but he is smiling too much for that to be convincing. He doesn't have to eat anything. He just kisses Aziraphale from time to time and gets a taste of the food on his lips. That's better anyway!

When they finally sit down, Aziraphale with a plate of food, Crowley with a coffee mug, the angel digs in immediately. He makes some pleased noises. “I cannot understand how you can cook so well, my dear, when you do not eat”, he says after a very delicious bite of scrambled egg.

“Really?”, Crowley asks in disbelieve, raising an eyebrow: “You cannot think of one reason?” Aziraphale blushes and Crowley grins, satisfied that the angel understood him.

“I have been thinking”, the angel says after a while. His voice sounds light but it is that sort of light tone that you practice in front of a mirror, when you want to _seem_ light and Crowley immediately sits up in his chair. “It is quite complicated, going between your apartment and my bookshop. I am a guest here and you are a guest there”, Aziraphale goes on: “It would be better if we had a place together, don't you think?” Crowley thinks. It is true, probably, but he is not sure if he wants to fit his stuff into the angel's bookshop. Aziraphale can definitely not fit his bookshop in here...

“You mean, a flat?”, he asks hesitantly.

“Or a house, maybe?”, Aziraphale elaborates: “A cottage, somewhere nice and green?”

That sounds intriguing... definitely not lovely or delightful, Crowley would never use these words! “Hmmm”, he says, his eyes wandering off, while he imagines golden sunsets over a lake somewhere, the last beams of light filtering through the leaves of impeccable trees who shiver if he only so much as comes near them. He and Aziraphale sitting on a veranda, taking it all in, Aziraphale smiling brightly... “Yes, I think that could work”, he finally says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want them to be happy, okay? :D You cannot stop me from writing fluffy chapter after fluffy chapter about their relationship :D The competition will be soon, though, I promise!
> 
> Thank you to the incredible [AccroV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccroV/pseuds/AccroV) for supporting me and inspiring me through the course of this fic! I am sure that many things would not have been in here if I had not been inspired by your work, so thank you so much for the comments and ideas! <3  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley walks into the bookshop in his usual energetic manner, in his hand a whole stack of magazines, that he puts down on the table with an impressive 'thud'. Aziraphale, currently on his phone, shoots him a quick glance. “Ah, that'll be Crowley”, he says into the receiver, before removing it a bit from his ear and explaining: “Crowley, dear, this is Anathema.”

It only takes the demon three long steps to reach his angel and grab the receiver out of his hand. “Book girl!”, he says, even though they have talked to each other on multiple occasions now: “How's the witching going?”

He can practically hear her raised eyebrow. “Fine, how is the demoning?”, she asks.

“Splendid!”, Crowley retorts with a grin: “Or, rather, you know...bad. What about the kids? They' doing alright?”

Hearing this, Aziraphale smiles brightly. Crowley always had a soft spot for kids, even though he would probably glare at you if you ever mentioned that and then mumble something about them being “alright...” and “at least not as horrible as adults”. But, nevertheless, Crowley had always lightened up with joy whenever they had received a letter from the Them. Pretty early on, Adam had decided that writing letters was the only seemly way of staying in contact with two ethereal beings and they wrote in a way that each of the kids would take turns in writing short passages one after the other, which sometimes resulted in whole arguments unfolding on the page.

Aziraphale kept them all in a neat little pile in a metal box. They were talking about latest exploits and games and very rarely about school, which was only mentioned in a way a distant aunt might be mentioned that you not quite have lost contact with but would really love to do so. After a short discussion that had Crowley pretending to be annoyed and Aziraphale actually a bit annoyed at some point, he and Crowley had started answering the letters in the same fashion as they received them, with Crowley sometimes drawing little illustrations in the margin or, very unpractically, right in the middle of the page. Aziraphale sincerely hoped that these letters were preserved with the same care but he had no doubts that the kids cherished them almost as much as he did himself.

“That is great to hear!”, Crowley says after a bit of a pause in which he had been listening. There is a bright, genuine smile on his face, until his gaze shifts to Aziraphale, who is eyeing him with a little affectionate smirk and his smile instantly fades into an expression of feigned disinterest. “Yeah, so, kids, whatever...”, he mumbles: “I'm passing you on to Aziraphale again.” And with that, he hands the angel the receiver back.

Crowley walks over to the table where he sits down and starts skimming through the magazines until Aziraphale has hung up the phone. He only looks up as the angel slowly brushes his hand through his hair and makes some of the red strands fall in his face. “So?”, he asks with raised eyebrows: “What's the news?”

“Anathema and Newt are doing a celebration for _Litha_ next month and she wanted to ask if we'd like to come?” There is a bit of a pause but Crowley remains silent. “We do!”, Aziraphale concludes.

“Of course!” Crowley brushes the strands out of his face as Aziraphale sits down and takes a look at the magazines.

“Are these original ones?”, he asks with a bit of surprise, inspecting the worn out pages and noticing the faded colours.

“Yup!”, Crowley answers: “1970 to 1979.”

“Why did you keep them?”, Aziraphale inquires further, skimming through the June edition he is currently holding.

Crowley's expression changes to that sharp grin which always makes his face look more angular than it already does. “I was working for them”, he explains with some malice in his voice: “Every week, I gave dietary advice.”

Aziraphale raises his brows and takes a look at the index: “Why carbs are your worst enemy”, he reads then he grabs another edition: “Do carbs really make you fat? The biggest food myths”, puzzled, he keeps skimming through the pile: “Breakfast, the most important meal of the day or the biggest reason for weight gain?”,“How eating lots of fat can actually help you loose weight” , “Why a hearty breakfast keeps you thin”,“Eating after midnight, the reason why you can't loose weight!” , “A midnight snack a day keeps the fat away”, “The dangers of fat and how the food industry lies to you”.

“They, they all contradict each other...”, Aziraphale says and Crowley's smile widens.

“Brilliant, isn't it?”, he asks. The angel frowns even though he cannot deny the touch of pride he feels for his boyfriend's creativity. “Anyway, that's not why I brought them”, Crowley explains: “I thought, if I have to be the dancing monkey and dress up in a 70s disco outfit, so should you!” He wiggles his eyebrows, trying to look mischievous but in reality, he is a bit excited to see Aziraphale in something else than his trademark waistcoat.

Aziraphale shoots him a sceptical look. Regardless, he starts skimming through one of the magazines. “Why don't I just wear the same as you only in a different colour?”, he wants to know. Aziraphale gets up, snaps his fingers and in the next instance, he is standing there in flared, black trousers, thick heeled boots and a shiny, blue shirt. The first thing that shoots through Crowley's head is that the angel didn't even take time to think to replicate his look which makes him feel a bit flustered. Then, his eyes take their time to wander over Aziraphale's body, the smooth fabric of the shirt that clings tightly to every curve of his torso, the V-neck exposing just a little bit of chest and white, fluffy hair, fabric running smoothly over his belly, where the last button is just under a little bit of stain, forming tiny wrinkles, the last bits of it tucked into his trousers. Crowley swallows.

“How do I look, dear?”, Aziraphale asks with a beaming smile but Crowley can't think straight. Well... you know...

“Hot”, he says truthfully and instantly blushes.

Aziraphale's eyes sparkle. He looks happy and totally unashamed. “Maybe I can try out some of those dance moves from a few weeks ago?”, he suggests, starting to move in the most outrageous way possible. Crowley's eyes widen as he can see his muscles work under the illegally smooth and thin fabric. Maybe he has not thought this through...

“Angel, angel!”, he tries to stop him but Aziraphale loves dancing and he is beaming now, totally enjoying himself. As if to mock Crowley, he is doing comically outdated dance moves, swirling his hands about, looking absolutely adorable. Adorable? Crowley winces. He wants nothing more than to grab the angel and kiss him! Suddenly, he realises, that he actually _can_.

“Oh!”, Aziraphale lets out a surprised sound as his dancing is suddenly and a bit rudely stopped by Crowley's strong hands grabbing him. But, of course, he doesn't mind. The kiss is full of heat and passion, slow and deliberate. Once they separate, Aziraphale giggles. “Was my dancing that good?”, he asks and Crowley shakes his head.

“Totally, totally awful!”, he replies, leaning in for another kiss, but the angel's head moves back, slightly out of reach.

“Then why did I get that reaction?”, he says puzzled.

Crowley grins. “It's these clothes, they, I cannot let you leave the house in them.”

“Oh, really?”, Aziraphale's voice sounds playful: “So you are the only one who is allowed to look slutty?”

There is a short pause and Crowley notices the smirk paired with raised eyebrows on the angel's face as if he is daring him to disagree. “Slutty? I'm not!” Aziraphale's eyebrows get raised even more. “Oh, shut up!”

“I like it”, Aziraphale confesses suddenly: “I like how people look at you, my dear, because I know they can't have you because you belong to _me_.” The tips of his right hand brush against Crowley's cheek. A possessive gesture.

“Well, I don't want anybody looking at you!”, the demon snaps maybe a bit too harsh, but the angel chuckles at the assertion.

“Then maybe we should find another shirt”, he presumes: “Because we can't have everybody swooning over me, in this outfit, can we?” Now he is definitely making fun of Crowley, who rolls his eyes dramatically and let's go of Aziraphale. Before he can move away, though, he is pulled in for another very quick kiss.

“Alright”, he says finally, returning to the stack of magazines, leafing through them as if he hadn't already picked out a shirt that he was hoping to see Aziraphale put on: “How about this?” It is a light blue floral pattern, where blue swirls are paired with white blossoms. The collar is stiff and there is a considerable V-neck as well but you could always close a few more buttons. The guy on the picture is also wearing light blue trousers.

Aziraphale looks over his shoulder and then, with another snap, he is wearing the outfit. “Is this better?”, he asks, the shirt complimenting his bright blue eyes perfectly. Just as Crowley had imagined it would.

“Good!”, he says: “Definitely less slutty.”

“I am relived!”, Aziraphale says: “Now, let's go out for dinner. And you absolutely have to tell me about the time you worked for this magazine!”

Crowley heartily agrees to both things but he doesn't forget to remind Aziraphale to switch back into his usual clothes before they leave the bookshop. After all, he doesn't want to cause a riot on the streets.

***

It takes two weeks until they wear their disco outfits to the dancing class, because, while Crowley likes showing off, he does not like to feel as if he is pressured into anything. So, when they do it, they do it on their own accord and not because someone asked. Of course, everybody is thrilled, especially Rebecca, who jokes about her and Charles needing to buy similar outfits. Crowley finds it very hard to concentrate in that lesson and Marida shoots him a few knowing smirks.

They progress nicely in their training and Marida starts showing them how to put together a choreography for the competition, but she does not help them to piece it together.

One day, when Crowley strolls into the bookshop for practice, he finds the angel in front of his ancient computer, eyes practically glued to the screen, watching intently. He saunters towards him and steps behind him so he can look at the screen also, placing his chin on Aziraphale's head and draping his arms around him lazily. Aziraphale doesn't flinch he just keeps watching. It is a dancing video on this 'YouTube' platform that Crowley helped create. Or at least, he had convinced the creator that a comment function was essential for building community on the site, something he was still proud of. The fact that YouTube worked on Aziraphel's ancient computer did not occur as strange to either of them. Why shouldn't it work, after all? It was a computer!

“I was looking for some interesting ways to finish our choreography”, Aziraphale explains as the video stops.

“'Wedding Waltz with Lady's Lift'", Crowley reads part of the title: "Were you planning on dancing at a wedding?", he asks teasingly, even though the thought suddenly makes him a bit light headed, something fluttering in his chest.

Aziraphale blushes and smiles. "Not exclusively", he responds, moving his cursor to a certain part of the video's timeline and repeating a passage, where the woman is slightly jumping, her left leg raised and caught by the left arm of the man, after which the man spins around, holding the woman in a position in which her left leg is stretched out horizontally and the other one stretched out vertically in a 90 degree angle. They spin around their own axis five times before he gently puts her down again and they end their choreography with a dip, a small turn outwards and another, more elegant, dip. “Do you think we could do this 'lady's lift'?”, Aziraphale asks.

“Oh, absolutely!”, Crowley agrees: “That'll tear down the competition in no time!”

“And it will look lovely, I'm sure”, Aziraphale remarks.

“Yeah, that too.”

When they try it out, they realise that it feels rather lovely as well. Aziraphale lifting Crowley as if he were light as a feather, spinning them around until they both forget where they are and how many times they have turned already, Crowley not stretching out his right arm as elegantly as the woman in the video but clutching Aziraphale's neck with both his arms, giggling and then full on laughing while gazing into Aziraphale's eyes that seem to be sparkling due to his bright smile. If you asked the demon, he would probably say that it was “all right” or “interesting”, because a word like 'bedazzling' would never leave his mouth. It was definitely something to win the competition that was due in two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Things got in the way of writing recently but I am super determined to finish this story! The dancing competition will be in the next chapter :)
> 
> As always, thank you so much to the lovely [AccroV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccroV/pseuds/AccroV) for proofreading and commenting on this chapter! <3 And thank you for keeping my mind on this story! <3  
> 


	9. Chapter 9

Crowley has really outdone himself with his outfit! When he walks into the bookshop to pick up Aziraphale, he is wearing a long, floating, shoulder-less dress that is pitch black from top to bottom. On the black fabric, however, little, sparkling stones are sewed that glitter and glisten as if they are small stars, forming constellations on the black background. Most of them are white, but some have different colours that shine brightly and flicker for a short moment as the light hits them just right. He is not wearing his glasses and they are nowhere in sight, eyes sparkling about as much as his dress.

Aziraphale's jaw drops as soon as he sees him walking in with a slightly reduced version of his usual swagger, the dress swirling around his body, accentuating his lean figure. The heels are minimal but they still work to make him appear even slimmer and taller. They had tried out many different heights for the shoes while training for the competition and in the end had settled on these very small heels.

Crowley is also wearing minimal make-up with a slightly red lipstick and his red curls are falling free around his face and shoulders. To make it seem natural, he had let his hair grow out gradually over the course of the last few weeks so that it, hopefully, appeared to be growing on it's own accord. And even though it is now far longer than it had any right to be after such a short period of time, the humans in the dancing class did not seem to have noticed.

Crowley had meant to be suave and teasing upon his entrance into the bookshop but as he sees Aziraphale, he stops dead in his tracks. The angel is wearing a blue suit that brings out his eyes perfectly, tightly cut and very form fitting! The vest under the dinner jacket as well as his bow tie are in a light, pastel shade of yellow that reminds Crowley of his own eyes. Aziraphale's hair is white, fluffy and perfectly curled, but isn't it always?

Crowley opens his mouth, then closes it. Aziraphale still looks completely stunned. “You look absolutely amazing!”, the demon finally gets out: “Totally magnificent!”

Aziraphale blinks. “W – What?”, he says: “ _I_ look amazing? You look . . . incredible . . . overwhelming . . . I – my dear, you are simply gorgeous!”

Crowley smiles gleefully, twirling on the spot, making the dress shimmer and glitter as the light hits it from many different angles. “You think so, angel?”, he asks, finishing in a dramatic pose, arms stretched out.

“Oh, absolutely!”, Aziraphale agrees without hesitation: “I am sure everyone will have their eyes on you the whole evening!”

Crowley steps closer towards him, letting the fingers of his right hand slide into Aziraphale's hair, pulling him in with his left arm around the angel's waist. “And I will only have eyes for you!”, he whispers, observing the effect that these words have on the other's face, just for a moment, as the smile spreads across Aziraphale's lips, lighting up his eyes, making small wrinkles appear around them. Crowley leans in and kissed him softly. He feels warm and oh so happy. It's going to be an incredible night!

Before they leave, Aziraphale fixes Crowley's hair in a few, very loose braids that keep stray strands from falling into his face. Aziraphale is not very good at this sort of thing since styling, make-up and fashion are more Crowley's area of expertise, but he just loves the feeling of running his hands through and touching Crowley's hair in general, so the demon allows him to do it. He is looking at a step by step guide out of a book while quietly murmuring to himself and scolding Crowley from time to time when the demon tries to turn his head to answer one of the angel's questions. Crowley pretends to be annoyed by this but he is mostly smiling. If Aziraphale uses a small miracle here and there to improve the hairstyle, after one of Crowley's rebellious strands has slipped through his fingers again, the demon does not comment.

When they walk into the dancing studio, they can immediately see the difference. There are curtains everywhere, tables covered in long cloth on which different alcoholic drinks are placed. The lights are dimmed and in the main dancing hall, the light-bulb has been exchanged for a big, round, spinning thing that makes little spots of light dance around the room, not hectically but more in a way that makes the room look magical and enchanted.

As per usual, they are the last couple to arrive but the reactions of the other's as they walk in do not disappoint. There are a few gasps, with one particularly lout one coming from Rebecca. “I cannot believe that you have managed to upstage me!”, she declares for everyone to hear: “You look absolutely fabulous!”

Rebecca is wearing a blue dress herself that is also covered with little, sparkling spots made out of blue glitter. She and Charles are perfectly colour coordinated, him wearing a black suit with a blue vest and tie that are in the same shade as her dress. The four of them exchange hugs while Aziraphale assures her that she looks absolutely fabulous as well.

Then, Jen appears in an absolute rainbow of a dress; light, shining colours are melting into each other without fading, creating a beautiful mix of blue, green, red and violet. She is practically glowing, pulling them both into warm hugs and complimenting them on their outfits. ”You look breathtaking! Both of you! Cowley, we absolutely have to take a picture together. I feel like we are total opposites today”, she says as soon as she lets go.

“Absolutely!”, Roger agrees behind her. He is wearing a dark purple suit with a colourful handkerchief and bow-tie. “Glad I am not the only one who opted for the stylish and a bit eccentric”, he says, pointing at Aziraphale's bow-tie: “You both look absolutely wonderful!”

“Thank you!”, Aziraphale says genuinely and they hug as well.

After they have greeted everyone in the room, they see Marida walking towards them. She is wearing a ruby lace-dress that, even though it has lace sleeves through which you can see the skin, leaves her shoulders bare, with the lace extending a bit over the darker, non transparent part, forming a half circle on her chest. She is also wearing impossibly high heels in which she walks ever so confidently as in any other shoe.

“Welcome you two!”, she exclaims, eyeing their outfits with a fair ounce of admiration. “I guess this was worth the wait”, she says with a slightly concealed smirk before hugging them as well: “If you want to partake in the competition, just enter your names on the list. After observing your progress in class, I am sure that you have prepared something? So far, everyone has signed up.” There is a bit of pride in her voice.

“We will absolutely partake!”, Crowley affirms with a wide grin that is reflected on Marida's face at once.

“I am really looking forward to it!”, she says. They put their names on the list and indeed, all seven other couples have signed up.

“Alright!”, Marida says, getting the attention of everyone in the room: “Now that you're all here, I want to say a few words: This has been an amazing class and I am very excited about the progress all of you have made! I cannot wait to see what you have put together for the competition! As you can see there is a variety of alcoholic drinks available but I encourage you not to drink more than one before your performance. Afterwards you can get completely sloshed but, in my experience, more than one drink beforehand is not advisable.” She lets her eyes wander from face to face before she continues: “Now, for the competition itself: You will go on stage in the order in which you have put your names on the list.” Hearing these words, Crowley sulks a little since this means they have to wait the longest to drink properly.

“After everyone has performed, I will hand out pieces of paper. There will be a wooden box to put them in. Every couple has three points to give to the others, that means each two of you write down the names of the three couples who, in your opinion, have performed the best. One mention equals one point. I will also be writing down three couples but, since I am the teacher, my vote is worth two points. Whoever has the most points wins. Oh, and please don't choose yourself.” Aziraphale shoots Crowley a look at these last words but the demon doesn't seem to notice. “Any questions?”, she waits but nobody speaks. “Perfect!”, Marida concludes: “Then let the competition begin!”

They scatter around the dancing hall while Marida changes the lights so that there is now only one bright spot in the middle of the room. Crowley takes the time to pick the darkest drink he can find while Aziraphale picks something light and fruity.

Of course, Rebecca and Charles are the first couple on the list. They have chosen a very slow piece of music to which they move elegantly and with grace. Their technique is flawless and their posture tense and professional. It looks very efficient. Aziraphale is taking small sips, while watching, enjoying every swig of the richly flavoured liquid, while Crowley on the other hand gulps down half his drink immediately and spends the rest of the dancing number staring ahead and holding onto his glass intently, forcing himself not to drink any more. As Rebecca and Charles finish with a dip, everyone applauds politely and the next couple gets on stage.

Crowley soon realizes that there is not much of a competition. The next couple is flustered and messes up some steps in the beginning, before recovering and getting into the rhythm. Many of the performances are genuinely nice to watch, even though it is mostly the adoration of the dancing partners towards each other that brings a bright smile to Aziraphale's face and not so much their skills. Most of them keep it simple with only one or two risky figures.

When Jen and Roger get on stage as the last couple before Aziraphale and Crowley, the angel's smile immediately widens and even Crowley cannot help but smile a little. Jen is totally glowing and beaming as if being on this stage with her soon to be husband were the best thing that ever happened to her and Roger seems totally happy as well. They have chosen a much faster song than everyone before them and soon they are gliding across the floor as if their shoes had wheels that took them everywhere they wanted to go at exactly at the right time. They are spinning and turning and laughing and soon they end their dance with a dip and a kiss. Everyone applauds heartily. It is at this moment that Aziraphale takes the last sip of his drink and Crowley realizes that he still has half of his cocktail and hasn't taken a single sip since the first dance. He downs it in one which results in a bit of laughter from the room, before he puts it down and takes Aziraphale's hand, who has also put aside his glass.

It's funny how holding hands now comes so natural to them, when they had been so nervous the first time. So much has changed since their first dance in this hall! Aziraphale can't help but smile when he thinks about how Crowley had stepped on his foot, how they still had to find their rhythm back then, not only in regards to dancing. That first lesson seems so long ago now, far longer than two months.

They have chosen the song that had played when they had first kissed in class for their dancing number. It is neither fast nor slow and not particularly sophisticated but that does not matter all that much to them. Crowley smiles brightly as he is led into the middle of the room and he sees his own joy reflected in the face of his partner. They get into position, the angel assuming the leading role, looking at each other as if they were the only two entities in the room. “Let's destroy them!”, Crowley whispers in a devious voice which makes Aziraphale chuckle. “Let us show them how it's done!”, he agrees very quietly with slightly narrowed eyes and a mischievous smile in the corners of his mouth. It is a facial expression that Crowley hasn't expected and his own smile widens as he shakes his head slightly.

As the music starts, they start dancing. The choreography they have carefully crafted comes like second nature to them by now. They don't even have to think, they just move to the music, holding each other, feeling each other's presence and warmth, revelling in the joy of this closeness and intimacy. They spin and circle around each other, move in perfect unison, while glancing into each other's eyes, completely forgetting their surroundings. Crowley's dress swirls, whenever he is spinning and the little stones are sparkling in the light.

When they finally reach the part with the lift, Crowley jumps up and Aziraphale catches him flawlessly, holding him with total ease. The demon stretches out his arm and his legs in the perfect position as the angel spins them around and around. There are some gasps from the audience but neither of the two pay attention. In the end, Crowley is laughing too much so that he has to take his right arm in and wrap it around Aziraphale's neck as well. A moment later, his feet are put on the ground and they end with a spin and an elegant dip. Applause breaks out as soon as they are finished, freezing in the final position. Crowley still smiles at he lifts his left arm to place his hand on Aziraphale's cheek. They are both a bit out of breath but totally happy and beaming from ear to ear. Aziraphale lifts him up by pulling him towards himself for a short hug. He presses a soft kiss on his neck and cheek that fills Crowely's heart with warmth. When they separate, their hands are still connected, as they bow for their audience.

“Wonderful!”, Marida shouts and the applause slowly dyes: “All of you! Very well done! Now, please take your pieces of paper to allocate your points! And let the unrestrained drinking commence!”

When everyone gets a piece of paper, Crowley and Aziraphale retreat to a quiet corner of the room. Aziraphale is holding the paper and a pen. He looks at the demon intently. “Who are we going to write down?”, he asks.

Crowley doesn't have to think much. “Jen and Roger”, he says.

“Naturally”, agrees the angel before he adds: “And probably also Rebecca and Charles. They were a bit lacking in the department of enthusiasm and over all naturalness but heir technique was very good.”

“Agreed!”, Crowley says.

It stays quiet for a moment. Aziraphale raises his eyebrows as if asking a question. Crowley smirks and Aziraphale nods. “Very well”, he says: “let's cast our vote.”

While Marida is counting the points, she puts on music for everyone to dance to. The couples mix up a bit and Jen is asking Aziraphale to dance with her. Knowing her quite well by now, he is of course delighted and no longer as stiff as he was when he had been asked to dance with Marida in the beginning.

Crowley and Roger are watching them from the side for a moment, before Roger asks: “Would you like to dance as well?”

Crowley raises an eyebrow, then he smiles a bit crookedly and answers: “of course”.

Roger takes his hand in the proper fashion and they proceed to the middle of the dance-floor. Aziraphale is shooting them a bright smile while dancing past them. Roger is about as tall as Crowley so their dancing dynamic is a bit different. And, of course, he isn't Aziraphale.

“I don't believe I have thanked you enough for your help with the band for our wedding”, Roger says after a moment: “I know Jen has been all over you with gratitude but I wanted to thank you as well!” They spin past Rebecca who is still dancing with Charles.

“Don't thank me”, Crowley says automatically but as he sees the confused look on the other's face, he adds: “Wasn't a big deal.”

“It was for us”, Roger disagrees: “A small miracle, so to say.”

“Alright, time to announce the winner!”, Marida declares after the song has ended: “Please all gather round!” She has a piece of paper in her hand and is already smirking at it, looking around the room as if she were about to scold someone. Crowley and Aziraphale glance at each other. They are all standing in a semi circle, most of the couples holding hands and after short consideration, Crowley laces his and the Angel's fingers together. “I am only going to read out the first three places”, Marida announces: “I am going to read out the names and the points. Remember, nine is the maximal amount of points you could get”, she pauses: “If you didn't vote for yourself.” Crowley's shoulders tense. He knows that winning this is not important but at the same time, he really wants to win. He can feel Aziraphale's grip tighten as well.

“Third place”, Marida says dramatically: “Goes to.... Rebecca and Charles with five points!” Everybody cheers ad claps. Rebecca smiles but she still looks a bit disappointed. Marida goes on: “The second place goes to Jen and Roger with seven points!” There is an even louder cheer and Roger grabs Jen to press a kiss on her cheek while she is beaming. She turns her head and kisses him fully while everybody is still clapping. “And on the first place”, Marida says, one eyebrow raised and lips pressed together in an attempt to hide her amusement: “Are Crowley and Aziraphale with”, she makes a short pause: “Ten points!” There is a dead silence, just for a moment, then everybody starts laughing. Jen is cheering and clapping. Rebecca shakes her head slowly but she is clapping as well, smiling as if her only regret was not to have done the same.

Crowley's eyes are open in a bit of a shock. He has turned bright red. “Ten points!”, Marida repeats: “Literally the maximum amount anyone could get! With eight couples and two points from me... This has never happened before! It is a new record!” She smirks. Now Aziraphale also blushes he looks down and then shoots Crowley a very short glance the way he sometimes does. As if this wasn't totally his own fault!

“Oh, come on! We would have won either way! Extra pint or not”, Crowley exclaims in an annoyed tone which results in even more laughter from the room.

“Indeed!”, Marida says now smiling fully: “So would you all please come forward to get your trophy?”

They get a few odd looks as they walk to the front to receive their prize but generally, everybody seems to take it in good humour. The trophy is a very simple, golden pillar with a round plate on top that says: 'dancing competition 1st place'. But even though it is simple, Crowley and Aziraphale both know that they will cherish it for the rest of eternity!

After the awards are handed out, Marida puts on faster music and everyone proceeds drinking and dancing. In the beginning, they are all dancing waltz in different pairings but as the evening progresses, Marida puts in some pop music as well, so they can dance freely if they choose to do so. Jen and Roger, surprisingly, start a little display of disco fox which, even though they have a very limited amount of steps that they seem to know, looks a lot of fun. Crowley and Aziraphale are watching from the side as Marida suddenly approaches them.

“You know that I should have had you disqualified”, she says, sipping at her drink and shooting them a knowing look.

“Ah, come on! We would have won either way”, Crowley repeats, while Aziraphale blushes again.

“That's not what I meant”, Marida answers, making a bit of a pause: “I should have disqualified you because this is a couple's dancing class and you two are not a couple. At least you weren't when you signed up.” Now, her smirk can not be contained and she studies their faces with amusement.

“But...”, Aziraphale starts.

“How?”, Crowley continues.

Marida lets them wait for a moment, Aziraphale blinking in confusion and Crowley being totally frozen. “You know, it is not normal for someone to blush that extremely when being kissed on the cheek, or when kissing someone on the cheek, when they are already in an established relationship, right?”, Marida asks. There is a teasing quality in her smile now: “After I saw that, I obviously had to make you two kiss properly!”

Aziraphale gasps but Crowley is still in shock. Marida giggles. Then, suddenly, without any warning, Crowley darts forward and pulls her into a hug, holding onto her very tightly. “Thank you!”, he whispers: “It's been.... I've been in love with this idiot for an eternity!”

Marida laughs as she puts her hands on Crowley's back and gently strokes it. “You are so very welcome!”, she says.

As Crowley lets go and turns around, he can see the brightest smile on Aziraphale's face. “Thank you from me as well!”, the angel says and Crowley blushes at the thought that he had heard him: “For opening my eyes!” And with that, Aziraphale takes the demon's hand.

“That's what teachers are for!”, Marida says with a wink.

The rest of the evening is just delightful. Jen and Crowley take their pictures together. They all laugh and have a good time. Rebecca dances with Crowley and Aziraphale respectively and even once with Jen. Of course, Rebecca takes the leading part since she has perfected all the dancing steps so well that she can easily switch.

In the end, they are all slightly drunk when they take their time to say good bye. “Will we see you all in the advanced class?”, Rebecca asks: “Charles and I have taken quite the fancy to dancing and would love to continue!”

“Oh, definitely”, Jen says, shooting a look at Roger.

“Absolutely!”, he agrees. “How about you, Crowley, Aziraphale?”

The two of them exchange a look. “We would be delighted!”, the angel says: “This has truly been a life altering experience!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, finally! :D The dancing competition! I hope this lived up to your expectations :)
> 
> Thank you so much to the amazing [AccroV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccroV/pseuds/AccroV) for proofreading and enjoying this story so much! Your comments are always such a delight!  
> 


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